There had been too many lapses recently. Now was a time for pride - severe and uncompromising. 

She speaks the word of Waste and precious acid becomes expired fizzy drink; falling gargoyles become crumbled dusty powder rather than crushing stone, uncertain floors crumbling away leaving only binary strength and emptiness. She blazes clarity through the chaos in a show of force, magic strengthening around her with every draconic pronouncement. 

It's not that she doesn't trust Lucien. It's that she can't afford to.