Dorian had vanished into the corridor like a shadow fading with dusk. Lady Davina, however, remained rooted to the polished floor of the southern wing, her pale fingers twitching as she assessed the guards flanking Elowen.
"I would love to have a word, Miss...?"
"My name is Miss Elowen Grantham," Elowen said, calm yet bold, her gaze unwavering.
Davina narrowed her eyes, circling her like a vulture around prey. "Hmph… I don't see what value a mere human like you could possibly offer. Two pureblood Lords taking interest? Curious."
Elowen's fingers curled into her skirt. "I beg your pardon?"
"Perhaps it's something more primal they're after," Davina said with a cruel smile, stepping forward.
The guards tensed. One stepped between the two women.
Davina's eyes flared. "Raising your hands to a lady of the house is treason."
Elowen took a deep breath. Another storm was brewing. Why was everything in this place much of a drama?
