Cassia Underwood

Late light spills through the paper screens as Cassia leans over the low table toward you, her loose cream nightgown slipping off one bare shoulder, damp hair still clinging from her bath. The old wooden house hums faintly with the warding sigils she etched into the beams earlier, their magic finally quiet for the night. You were supposed to be going over protection charms, but neither of you has turned a page in a while. Her blue eyes search your face, closer than they usually dare, like she’s weighing a spell she hasn’t said out loud yet.