The door clicked shut, leaving Lyra alone for a brief moment. She took a deep breath, steadying the rush of adrenaline that thrummed beneath her calm exterior. Miranda's mask was slipping, and while it gave Lyra a sense of satisfaction, it also served as a warning—she was dealing with a snake that could strike at any moment.
But a serpent's greatest weakness was its pride, and Lyra intended to exploit that.
Moments later, she stepped out of her chamber, her demeanor composed but her mind sharp as a blade. She found Miranda standing near the hallway, her poised posture a picture of servitude—yet her fingers nervously played with the fabric of her sleeve.
Without a word, Lyra walked past her, her steps graceful but deliberate, and headed straight for the main library. Miranda's gaze followed her, a subtle flicker of suspicion in her eyes, but she trailed behind without question.
