Drizzt leaned heavily against the cool stone wall, grasping at his stomach. He hadn’t even paused to consider the implications of his actions, he knew only that he had to get out of that foul room.

Vierna then was beside him, her robe opened casually in the front. Drizzt, his head clearing, began to wonder about the price of his actions. The look on his sister’s face, he noted with still more confusion, was not one of scorn.

"You prefer privacy." she said, her hand resting easily on Drizzt’s shoulder. Vierna made no move to close her robe. "I understand." she said.

Drizzt grabbed her arm and pulled her away. "What insanity is this?" he demanded.

Vierna’s face twisted as she came to understand her brother’s true intentions in leaving the ceremony. "You refused a high priestess!" she snarled at him. "By the laws, she could kill you for your insolence."

"I do not even know her." Drizzt shot back. "I am expected to…"

"You are expected to do as you are instructed!"

"I care nothing for her." Drizzt stammered. He found he could not hold his hands steady.

"Do you think Zaknafein cared for Matron Malice?" Vierna replied, knowing that the reference to Drizzt’s hero would surely sting him. Seeing that she had indeed wounded her brother, Vierna softened her expression and took his arm. "Come back," she purred, "into the room.There is still time."

Drizzt’s cold glare stopped her as surely as the point of a scimitar.

Excerpt From: Robert Anthony Salvatore. “Homeland.”