Phaedra could see her father in her peripheral vision, and kept having to turn her head to avoid looking directly at him, avoid acknowledging that Saerian was impersonating him.
He was calling her what her father used to call her: Little Bird. And he was speaking to her in her language, tossing in comments about how she'd have to be ready for certain things in a real fight.
Her brain felt muddled. But she remembered... the reason... the reason Saerian picked her, the reason he knew she was telepathic... it had to do with a fight with her father, one where she'd anticipated his movements and hurt him, drawn blood. Saerian wanting her attention all went back to a little fight with her father.
"That's my father, Molly," she said. There was emotion in her voice, but not as much as she was betting Saerian was going for. Phaedra's eyes were tinged with red--tears.
Phaedra turned her head again to avoid looking at him.
Saerian could do more than this, and she knew it. He was already planning it. Ignoring her father would come at a price.