She turned and began to ascend the stairs with the unhurried, deliberate step of someone who had reached a conclusion and was entirely comfortable with it. As she climbed, the rhythmic thud thud thud of her footsteps produced that specific, ascending sequence of sound, the auditory signal that two people in a room recognize not as someone moving away but as the definitive closing of a chapter. It was the sound of a departure being registered, a space being cleared.
Lily remained perfectly still, her eyes fixed on the empty doorway, waiting with a predatory patience until the very last echo of the footsteps had died away into the silence of the upper floor. Only then did she allow herself to turn her full, unblinking attention back to the man on the sofa.
"Elizabeth Von Starlight," Lily began, her voice dropping into a lower, more resonant register that signaled the true interrogation had begun. "My aunt..."
"Yes," Rex replied.
