“Lilliana, I fear you might be a genius,” Aures announces during her cattle inspection.

The aforementioned, perched happily and comfortably out of the way on a towel on the pasture fence, gives Aures an unamused look, as though Aures has just dared insult her hair.

“I resent that statement, but elaborate anyway,” Lilliana says, adjusting her parasol so none of her porcelain pale skin sees even a hint of direct sunlight.

This, of course, makes ...