Lilith's mouth curved a little, the hint of a smirk there and gone before it could settle. "Balance, not victory," she said again, like she was tasting the words to see if they still held.
"We keep rooms true, not loud. It keeps the children unseen and the enemies uncertain."
The crystal wall flickered once with faint light—an Association feed waking for just a heartbeat, numbers rising and falling by so small a margin it barely mattered.
Elowen didn't flinch. She just said, "A clerk pulled a lever he thought belonged to him. It didn't."
Lilith traced a short note into the air with one finger and watched it vanish before it could finish glowing.
"The Director will already know," she said. "He'll pour himself something that isn't tea and pretend it is. He owes me a story, and I'll collect it after the midterm."
Elowen's smile came back, the tired kind that still carried warmth. "You always collect."
