Kyra's POV
The fragrance of jasmine tea mingled with smoldering sandalwood as Matron Kyra settled deeper into her velvet chair. Her private study felt like a sanctuary tonight, wrapped in shadows and flickering candlelight. The ivory and obsidian chessboard before her caught the warm glow, each piece positioned with calculated precision.
Soft melodies drifted from the corner where her musician played his violin. The notes were haunting yet controlled, just as she preferred. Beautiful enough to appreciate, subdued enough not to interrupt her thoughts.
She traced her finger along the rim of her porcelain teacup, studying the board with satisfaction. The white bishop gleamed as she lifted it, her emerald ring catching the light. With deliberate grace, she moved the piece forward. The black knight found itself cornered, trapped by her carefully orchestrated advance.
