A quick shake of her head - though she regrets that a moment later, pulling a face as her hair tangles, combing her fingers through to find the knots she needs to work out with the comb. It's drying, at least, but far too slowly for her liking. At least there's a fire.

"My husband is remarkably skilled in the craft that he taught to me," she says, measuring her words as carefully as she tugs the comb through her hair. "I don't believe I could have asked for a more apt tutor."

However.

"Particularly as regulation of magic in my experience involves a pyre."