Amara paced the length of the Lyselle Manor's library, her boots clacking on the polished wood floor. The towering bookshelves did little to soothe her nerves, and the dim light from the chandelier above cast elongated shadows that made her feel like she was starring in a particularly dramatic soap opera.
Elara sat cross-legged on a plush armchair, flipping idly through a book she wasn't reading. Her gaze, however, was fixed on Amara's increasingly erratic pacing. "You're going to wear a trench in the floor at this rate."
Amara stopped mid-stride, turning to Elara with a scowl. "This is a disaster. I have to face my parents, Felix, Marisol, and Lorenzo again tomorrow. Do you realize the level of smugness Marisol will radiate? It'll be visible from space!"
"Smugness isn't radioactive, Amara."