'That was humiliating,' Seraphina thought, still seated at the podium long after the crowd had thinned.
He hadn't even looked back at her when it ended. That was the part that burned — not the loss, the dismissal. Like she hadn't even been worth a second glance on his way out of the arena.
'Mannerless bastard. No class at all!'
She swung her hand with rage, and a white silk rushed out from the center of her palm. It gathered in the air and immediately formed into a fist, before it slammed down onto part of the viewers' section, destroying a few rows of seats.
She caught her breath, took in a mouthful of air, and exhaled.
"It's no use getting angry," she said, quietly, mostly to herself.
"There's no elegance in it. That's not how a lady presents herself."
As she pulled her arm back, the silk unraveled and dissolved into mist.
Her gaze fell to the arena, now completely devoid of students. She'd been so lost in thought she hadn't realized she was the only one left.
