The insolence of sitting in his desk chair was something Tiberius was prepared to allow. The level of confidence required to prop her feet up on his desk, as though she owned the study and everything in it, was not. With a scowl, Tiberius cast a knockback jinx—nothing that stood any chance of hurting her, given that she was already seated, but enough to scoot the chair back several feet and put the desk out of reach of her insolent toes.

"As are you," he said in a measured tone. He did not owe her an explanation; she, on the other hand, had to talk sooner or later.