She has hardly spent enough time in Winterhold's college, in the halls or in the library. Her magic is rustic at best, simple, and though she's practiced on the injured in Kynareth's shrine, it isn't quite the same. She knows that well enough. And she hardly expects to be paid for her services, and so she cocks her head to the side in offense as he pulls out the amulet.

The moment she realizes what it is, the healing stops and she steps back as if the artifact is a frost troll. "Divines," she softly curses, eyes wide. It may be broken and scorched but she knows full well what it is. Any Imperial would.

She doesn't want to touch it, let alone look at it.

Defensive, she glowers at him. "Take it back. It's yours."