The library was transformed into a makeshift studio. High-end laboratory lighting had been dragged in to illuminate the velvet curtains, and Czar sat behind a professional-grade cinema camera, his long fingers adjusting the focus with clinical precision.
The air between them was still thick with the residue of their twenty-four-hour standoff. Seraphina stood in the center of the light, wearing a simple dress, her face pale but her eyes burning with a desperate, creative fire.
"The lighting is sufficient," Czar said, his voice cold and professional. He didn't look at her directly, focusing instead on the small monitor. "Whenever you are ready, Miss Fairchild. Try not to waste the battery."
Seraphina took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she wasn't the "
