"If you ever need help," Sylene added firmly, "I'll help however I can."
The determination on that beautiful face...Julien felt his chest itch.
This kid—really not good for his heart.
"That vampire would kill me if I linger," he muttered, waving Sylene off. "Don't make promises so easily."
Then Sylene watched him go, warmth lingering in his chest.
If Sir Melchior was the kindest vampire he'd ever known, then General Julien was probably his human counterpart.
…And Mavis?
The hybrid version.
Sylene giggled quietly to himself, his gaze drifting around the ballroom.
Still no sign of the white fox. Nor the grand arbiter.
Where had that couple gone? Were they not here yet?
He was still choosing from the spread when a cluster of elaborately dressed nobles and hybrids drifted too close, their voices loud, careless, filling the space around him. Someone brushed past—
—and then fell.
A young woman, dressed in the most exquisite gown among them, stumbled hard.
