Libel sat poised in a grand, tufted armchair, her back straight as an arrow, a steaming cup of tea cradled delicately in her hands. She glanced up at the sound of a discreet knock at the door.
"Come in," she said evenly.
The door opened slowly, revealing Mira cloaked in a dark coat. She stepped inside, closing the door carefully behind her, then paused a few paces from Libel.
"Matriarch," Mira began, her voice calm but firm, "is it truly necessary to put my godson through this?"
Libel raised a brow, feigning surprise, and set her teacup down on the desk. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Warden Mira. What, exactly, are you referring to? But first, please, take a seat." She gestured gracefully to the chair opposite her.
Mira complied without a word, seating herself and crossing her legs. Her sharp gaze locked on Libel with an intensity that could unnerve even the most steadfast of individuals.
