Beside Nova was a woman with flowing raven hair and pale skin; she was dressed in long black robes, looking like some sort of medieval witch. She gazed at my father and the other Councillors with respect, but something in her eyes told me she wasn’t exactly thrilled they were here. Her gaze fell on Tory and a squeak of horror left her as she took an abrupt step toward her. “My dear, are you quite well?” “Quite well,” Tory echoed, and the professor pulled at her own hair, glancing at Father and quickly schooling her expression again.
