The air near the buffet tables was thick with the scent of spiced wine and the oily residue of a thousand extinguished candles, but for Elric, the atmosphere had finally cleared of one specific, cloying nuisance. He let out a breath he felt he'd been holding since the moment the Vernhardts had first descended upon them.
He looked down at Liera. She was still pale, her fingers interlaced so tightly in front of her skirts that her knuckles were the color of bleached bone, but the fire she'd just displayed was still smoldering in her eyes. It was the first time he'd seen the "delicate" Vernhardt daughter look like she actually had marrow in her bones.
"I believe," Elric said, his voice dropping into a rare, genuine register of gratitude, "that I owe you a significant debt, Lady Liera. I'm not sure I could have endured another minute of your sister's... unique brand of hospitality without doing something that would have required a diplomatic envoy to fix."
