The Vampires innocent Prey
He tore a piece of bread with deliberate calm, but his eyes—storm-dark and heavy—were fixed not on the meal before him, but on the figures gathered.
The Queen sat opposite him, serene in posture but sharp in gaze. Her goblet of watered wine remained untouched, fingers resting lightly on its rim. A single glance from her could quiet an entire hall, and this morning was no different.
Azriel, the Prince, occupied the place to his father’s right. His dark hair caught the light when he shifted, but his expression was carved from stone, unreadable as always. He moved with quiet precision, lifting his goblet, cutting into his food, yet never once lowering his guard.
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