The heavy oak doors groaned open, and Count Henry strode into the assembly chamber with Dante trailing behind him. The nobles were already gathered, lounging across velvet chairs and carved armrests, glasses of blood in hand.
Lord Damon was the first to speak, his lip curling faintly.
"Judging by your faces, I assume the half-blood did not come crawling back with you."
Count Henry's jaw tightened, but he bowed stiffly.
"He refused."
Lady Serelis arched a brow, her crystalline goblet poised delicately between clawed fingers.
"Refused… or mocked you?"
Dante stepped forward, his voice hard.
"He didn't mock us."
But Lord Marek's low laugh cut through the chamber like a blade. "Did he not? We all heard what he said to you, Dante Arcana. That he carries his mother's name, that your precious Arcana honor means nothing to him. I would call that mockery."
A ripple of laughter spread among the gathered nobles, sharp and poisonous.
