His ears were warm.
Liam slowly lowered the book.
Across the room, Aunt Mirelle did not look up from her embroidery. "Someone is speaking of you."
"I hate that superstition."
"Yes, dear."
"It has no scientific basis."
"Many accurate things survive without your approval."
Liam glared at her.
She continued stitching with perfect serenity.
From the sofa near the window, Enia Ravenwood turned a page of her own book without looking at him. "Perhaps it is Felix."
"Then my ears would be bleeding."
Aunt Mirelle hummed. "George, then."
"My ears would be asking for a lawyer."
Enia finally lifted her eyes. They landed on Liam's face first, as they had been doing all evening, checking the disguised swelling, the corner of his mouth, and the stiffness he could not quite hide.
Her expression cooled.
Liam looked away first.
That was another intolerable part of being home.
