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- Without hesitation, half a dozen vampires emerged from the gathered celebrants. One of them drew a thin duelist's blade from its scabbard. "Lady Voldaren asked you to leave," he said. "You don't belong here."
- That was all he would tolerate.
- Sorin's own sword flicked out in a succession of flashes that left five of his escorts writhing on the ground, curls of black vapor billowing from deep wounds. Only one remained—the duelist—but Sorin looked past him to Olivia to make sure she was taking this in.
- ***
- PROMISES OLD AND NEW
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