Sylvia reached them with the careful pace of someone who understood that one wrong move in a room like this could become a headline.
Dean's eyes met hers for a brief second, relief flickering through his usual sharp composure, and that alone was enough to make Sylvia square her shoulders.
She stopped at the edge of their small cluster and did the thing she had never once done in her life without choking on the concept.
She bowed.
Not low enough to be humiliating. Not shallow enough to be insulting. Just… correct.
Arion watched her with the calm, predatory patience of a man who had been bowed to since childhood and still liked it more when the bity ones did it out of pure peer pressure.
When Sylvia straightened, she expected dismissal.
Instead, Arion smirked in a way that was both charming and asking for a punch.
"Lady Sylvia," he said, voice smooth.
Sylvia kept her face neutral. She did not glare. She did not roll her eyes. She did not commit a felony.
It took strength.
