'It's not something I could tell you,' Imogen said plainly.

'Riddles don't suit you, Imogen,' Constance said with a sneer. 'Your bare midriff hardly constitutes an enigma.'

She moved to sidestep Imogen, who watched Constance's hips and followed the step.

Imogen leaned back against her door, physical poof that the witch would be getting nowhere without passing through Imogen first.

Aggravating woman! Constance thought again.

'You're right: I could tell you,' Imogen rectified. She glanced down and pressed only her index finger to the base of the witch's thumb. 'But it is generally a thing one shows.'

'Then show it.'