Jane was applying a fresh coat of blood-red nail polish when Liberty entered her audience chamber, and she didn’t look up when he came in.
“Miss,” he said, knowing this would be seen as a rude disruption, but there was no help for it.
She held up a hand, halting his proceedings.
He waited, but she simply went back to painting her nails.
“Miss, please—”
Her head snapped up and she glared at him, displeasure pulling down the corners of her generous mouth. He fell silent again, gritting his teeth in frustration at her apparent dismissal.
“This is important,” he insisted, hands clenching into fists.
She fixed her unimpressed gaze on his face, holding out her hand in a fan formation so her nails could dry. After a moment, she finally deigned to acknowledge his words.
“I’ll decide what’s
