Mathilda froze in front of the closed door, her fingers tightening around the folds of her shawl. For a long breath, she simply stared at the door, as if expecting it to open again.
Inside, the tension in the air still lingered, sharp as the scent of the sandalwood incense curling from a nearby burner.
Monk Anaro had already calmed himself, though the deep lines at the corners of his eyes still held a trace of displeasure.
Sensing Lana's presence, he put on his amiable smile again and asked in a gentle voice,
"How are you now, child?"
"Good." Lana's attitude had softened only slightly; however, the mask of politeness still stayed on her face. "I didn't know you were so explosive in private!"
Monk Anaro chuckled, his beard shaking slightly. "That's what I owe you."
Before Lana could retort, Monk Anaro's expression turned grim, and words of apology rolled out of his mouth.
