The candelabra on the top of the oak bookcase cast flickering shadows around the room. Adviser Lennard gestured for Aislynn to sit. She declined. There was no reason for her to be comfortable. Adviser Lennard slid a finger across the length of the desk and held it up to the light as if he was checking the cleanliness of the surface. “I know that you lied to Madame Moira,” he said. “It wasn’t you who used magic tonight. It was the monarch princess.” He wiped his hand with a handkerchief, taking a moment to glance over the desk at Aislynn. “I assume she was being insulted.” Aislynn held herself still and said nothing, but Adviser Lennard nodded as if she had confirmed his theory. “Yes, that is usually what makes her more vulnerable to the curse. Your loyalty is admirable. . . .” He plucked at an imaginary thread on his sleeve. “But dangerous.” Pressing his palms together, he let his fingers rest against his chin. He sighed. “The headmistress told me that you have not reported any occurrences since you became Linnea’s fairy godmother.”
