The veranda doors opened, and two women stepped into the garden.
The first was Juliana Everen. Age had softened her into grace instead of stealing from her. Short, wavy auburn hair framed her pale face, and red eyes glowed with warmth behind a smile that carried decades of stage experience.
She wore a cream silk shirt with buttoned sleeves and a long red skirt. Subtle jewelry at her ears and wrist added to the look. It was modest but unmistakably expensive, quiet luxury that whispered instead of shouted.
The second woman didn't whisper anything. Elaria Allen walked beside her like she owned the air.
Honey-blonde hair was held back by a pair of oversized sunglasses pushed into it. A gold chain sat heavy at her neck. Diamond earrings glittered in her lobes.
Her dress was tight, crimson, cut to show her curves. Her heels were sharp enough to stab the marble tiles if she wanted. Every piece screamed wealth, power, and the need for attention.
