"Do you like it?"
The voice slid into the room with all the warmth of varnished ambition.
Liam turned.
George stood in the doorway at last, brown hair touched with silver, green eyes bright with that particular satisfaction men wore when they believed a late entrance improved their value. He had changed since the public court corridors - not dramatically, but enough to suggest he had dressed for a private performance rather than formal monarchy. Dark suit. Gold at the cuffs. A ring too large for good taste. The whole effect was expensive and graceless, which meant it suited both him and the room.
Liam let his gaze rest on him for exactly as long as courtesy required and no longer.
"It's the only object in here that doesn't look like it was chosen by a committee of insecure jewelers," he said.
George laughed.
Not because he found anything funny, but because he thought charm could survive being attached to stupidity.
