Theresa stared down Alina for several agonizing seconds, her gaze like a weight that could crush a lesser person. But Alina didn't blink.
Finally, the older woman broke the silence with a soft, dry chuckle that didn't reach her eyes. There was nothing left for her to accomplish here; the seeds were planted, and the temperature of the room had been taken.
"Well, I shall take my leave," Theresa said, smoothing the front of her midnight-black dress as she stood with practiced, aristocratic grace. She walked toward the door, her furry overcoat trailing behind her like a royal cape. She stopped just before the threshold and glanced back over her shoulder.
"Be careful, Alina. This world isn't as soft as your fabrics. Oh, and I find myself in need of a gown for my granddaughter's birthday gala. I'll be in contact soon."
With that sharp, unexpected parting gift, she swept out of the house, leaving a scent of expensive jasmine and cold authority in her wake.
