~**(Third Person)**~
Wanda was the second to leave the dining hall.
The second the heavy doors closed behind her, her composure cracked.
Her heels clacked angrily across the marble as she marched toward the staircase, every step laced with frustration.
She hadn't said a word when Draven dismissed her. Not even when Meredith had the gall to sit in the room as witness to her humiliation.
Right in front of her.
Draven had belittled her. Cut her down with that cold, clipped voice of his. Told her—bluntly—that she had no authority. No right.
It wasn't just the words. It was what they meant.
You are not from here.
You don't belong here.
Only Jeffery and I have a say here.
Her fists curled as she climbed the stairs.
Wanda was unhappy with Draven. He had forgotten their years of friendship and had spoken to her so harshly in front of that cursed woman she wanted to teach a lesson.
