Mystica and Dove trailed behind Queen Lucy into her private chamber, the heavy doors closing behind them as the guards remained outside.
Lucy didn't say a word. She walked gracefully to the velvet-lined couch by the tall window and sat, posture regal. With a few rhythmic taps on the armrest, a ripple of magic shimmered across the room—Silent Zone.
"No eavesdropping," she said coolly. "Now that you've finally shown up—twelve days late, with your apprentice—I assume you brought something worthwhile."
Mystica gave a light nod. "We did. Not absolute, but it's the best lead we've got."
Lucy's eyes slid to Dove. "And you must be the one Mystica insisted I allow assist her."
"Dove Verlhare, at your service," she said, pulling the cigar from her lips and bowing slightly, her tone casual but respectful.
Lucy's face didn't shift. "A pleasure. Though I'd prefer you not poison my air with that smoke. My nose doesn't take kindly to cigars."
