[ Adora folds her arms over her chest, raising an annoyed eyebrow. Something about Shadow Weaver's answer, as if Adora somehow isn't important enough to worry about anymore, grates more than it should, and she gleefully takes a chance to hold something over the other woman. ]

You're right. It's not.

[ She doesn't tell her about the stars. About the fact that they're not on Etheria at all — as impossible as that seems — but somewhere wholly different. Shadow Weaver will figure it out herself the moment she steps outside, but for now, Adora lets the ambiguity hang like a threat. ]

But we didn't do anything. Trust me, the last thing either of us wanted was to see your face again. [ Literally, and she winces at the reminder. She never thought she'd miss Shadow Weaver's creepy, emotionless mask, but boy, does she ever. ] You want She-Ra, don't you? That's what this is all about. You just can't stand the idea of someone else being more powerful than you.

[ Arrogance getting the better of logic, she draws the sword from her back, holding it up in front of her. For a moment, she forgets all about Catra, and her carefully constructed lies. Forgets that no one in the Horde should have made the connection between She-Ra and Adora so soon after her defection, before any of them had witnessed her transformation at Thaymor. All she cares about is proving what Shadow Weaver said wrong; that she (or at least, She-Ra) does matter to the Horde, and to her. ]