Tessa sat at the head of the long table with her hands folded neatly before her. The guild leader's chair had never felt particularly comfortable; it was less a seat of power and more a stage for endless compromises.
Yet today, something was different. Her spine pressed firmly into the backrest. There were no trembling hands, no nervous eyes darting toward her officers for support.
Across from her lounged Vaelira. The young prodigy's golden hair shone beautifully under the guildhall's lamplight, pristine and perfectly arranged as if every strand had been told where to stay, lest it risk her displeasure. She reclined with all the careless grace of a queen who thought herself untouchable, with one leg crossed over the other.
All the while, her crystal nails were tapping impatiently on the armrest of her chair, clearly unhappy with being called over for a discussion with the leader. She felt it was a waste of time.
