"Light be praised," she murmurs, and then is silent for a few moments.

During that time, her dark-eyed gaze goes briefly to a parliament of owls, perched on the roof of the greenhouse and watching them.

"It is best that she think you so; if we are truly lucky, she will not return here again." There is something implacable in her demeanor as she adds,

"And if she does, then perhaps she may be dealt with. There are ways."