“Money can’t buy me love.”
Alone at last, the dragon-lady lurks in her lonely tower. Safe with nobody to bother her. She can count it all she likes. No risk, none at all. Then why is she so bored? And perhaps on other days she’s happy to be alone, here in this place of power. She can see for miles; it’s easy to defend. But right now? She’s not happy.
(Maybe she’s just not happy because you’re here. She’s too polite to actually put it in words, but she’s watching your every move in case you pick up something that doesn’t belong to you.)
The wands? Lifeless wooden bars on her window. Not quite a prison’s bars but oh so close. Is she kept in or is the world kept out? All the growth is outside, in the light of the sun; inside, there’s just one pale rose she’s plucked. Surprisingly, it hasn’t withered yet.
Like all of the Fours, the stability here is an illusion. The tower comes down sooner or later, and she’ll be thrust outside. Leave her alone until then; her claws are sharp.