He bared his fangs slightly—never subtle about his pride.
Outside, laughter floated on the wind. The hallways bustled, and the sprawling terrace echoed with children's footsteps and the scent of roasted meats and sweet citrus wine.
But one child walked slowly—measured, calm, and unnervingly silent.
Julian.
Only twelve years old, yet he carried the stillness of night. Cloaked in deep navy, his hands behind him, his expression unreadable.
"Won't you join the bowling match this afternoon?" Lady Louisa asked, her tone soft as wind over harp strings.
She walked beside him, elegant in her green gown, her chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulders. Though she was already in her twenties, her gentleness seemed untouched by time, unmarred by pureblood superiority.
"Hmmm," Julian said, voice clipped. "I do prefer the Hunts. Evening suits me."
Louisa smiled, unfazed. She was the only one Julian tolerated to walk beside him in silence.
