“What makes it so Nadežran? Or Vraszenian—whichever.” She dismissed the quibble over terminology with a flutter of one hand. If she’d wanted to persuade them she’d never been to Nadežra in her life, she couldn’t have chosen a better method. Both men bristled, brothers in indignation. Serrado might be a slip-knot, but his ancestry was as Vraszenian as they came, while Vargo looked like a typical Nadežran, mixed Vraszenian and Liganti blood—and neither of them appreciated being lumped in with the other.
