Marius von Palestri’s pale platinum hair fluttered in the breeze. The epaulets on his white uniform and the gold-threaded sash across his chest gleamed under the sunlight, their opulence nearly blinding. Such extravagance could have easily seemed excessive—even ridiculous—but not on him. His soft yet striking features exuded an air of effortless nobility. Even in rags, his lineage would have been unmistakable.
“It seems your long seclusion has made you forget basic etiquette,” Marius remarked coolly. “If you can’t even manage a proper greeting, you are no better than a barbarian from the outskirts.”
Vlad remained unmoved. “I wonder, does the abduction of a young boy by the imperial knights fall under proper decorum?” he mused.
Marius’s blue eyes narrowed in irritation, his elegant features twisting into an uncharacteristic grimace. “You always deflect from the real issue. Don’t use a common boy as a distraction—I won’t overlook your immorality because of it,” he snapped.
