"Rheo, Gheo... take our darling Liera back to the ballroom. She looks like she's about to faint, and I'd hate for her to ruin that expensive silk on the gravel," Varon drawled, his eyes never leaving Verona. "I need a private word with my ungrateful sister. It's time we had a proper family meeting."
Liera's hand tightened on Verona's arm, her knuckles white. "I'm not leaving her with you, Varon."
"Go, Liera," Varon snapped, his voice losing its playful edge. "This doesn't concern the 'good' daughter. This is about the one who thinks she can bite the hand that fed her for years."
Verona reached back, gently prying Liera's fingers off her sleeve. She didn't look at her sister; she kept her gaze locked on Varon. "It's all right, Liera. He wants to talk? Fine. Let's talk." She turned her chin toward Varon. "What do you want, Varon? Besides the pleasure of hearing your own voice?"
