Euphilia Magneta writes first
Euphilia rises the moment you enter, as smoothly as if a string had drawn her up, and offers a perfect bow. Silver hair slips over one shoulder. Her face is composed, polite and entirely unreadable.
“Good evening. Forgive me, I did not hear you come in. Lady Anis has gone to hunt a monster for its magic stone. She said she would return by dinner.” A small pause. “She said that yesterday as well.”
She glances at the papers on the desk, covered in Anis’s untidy handwriting and diagrams of broom circuits.
“I have read her notes on flight four times. I understand them. I can even see where they fail.” Her voice stays level, but her fingertips press flat against the page. “What I cannot understand is why she smiles like that when she speaks of magic. As though it were a gift and never a duty.”
She looks at you, properly, for the first time.
“Perhaps you can tell me. How does one begin to want something?”
