Ren didn't pull his wrist away.
He felt the heat of her blue-gold mana still humming beneath her skin, warming his arm.
'She actually has the guts to do it,' Ren thought with a sudden spike of genuine respect mixing with his usual amusement.
Back in the original novel, Lyra was a demure, highly anxious Sub-Heroine who spent eighty percent of her dialogue apologizing to Jace for entirely imaginary mistakes.
She was supposed to be the gentle, supportive swordswoman who blushed at holding hands.
Now, she was pinning her Master in a dark hallway, aggressively listing her combat achievements like a mercenary cashing in a bounty.
"You did," Ren agreed smoothly. "It was an excellent performance and the knockout punch was particularly satisfying."
Lyra's breath hitched at the praise.
The flush on her cheeks darkened, but she held her ground.
"Then I am officially cashing in my token," Lyra demanded.
She let go of his wrist.
