Melchior was suddenly at Sylene's side, lifting his chin with careful fingers. His gaze flicked to Silena's hand—
The urge surged again.
To sever it.
But the little bird would be frightened.
This was human territory. He couldn't be too domineering here.
He forced himself to pull back.
Zirron, however, was far less restrained.
As Sylene and Melchior turned to leave the lounge—Marquis Kilan still bowing repeatedly—his voice rang out in desperation.
"I—I see you favor white fox hybrids," the marquis blurted. "How about I offer you one? I have a white fox hybrid at home!"
That was the last thing Sylene heard.
He quietly began chanting prayers in his head.
Zirron would be furious.
Well.
That project was truly dead now—not because of Silena anymore, but because of Marquis Kilan himself.
