The receptionist at the desk directs her to an aid, who escorts her upstairs to the public office of Princess Nuala; she has another, in the space that civilians and outsiders do not see, but her work here is mostly to do with those outside and so this is the room in which she does most of it. Some of it, perhaps, will make more sense to Jones (who approaches with the awareness of dealing with an enchantress, with that detail placed at the forefront of this interaction) than to some others (who look blankly at the spinning wheel and stool beside it and wonder what in the world it's doing there).

The fire is unlit, but Nuala is settled beside it in her usual armchair nevertheless, a tea service between her and the seat she expects Jones to take when she greets her, and there is something terribly hearth-and-home about the image she presents (a fairytale as illuminated richly on vellum), if not for the silver hand encased behind her desk, clenched in a fist.

"I am glad you've come," she says, warmly, rising. "Please; join me."