The Lost Heiress of the bleeding throne
The other six chairs surrounding it were already occupied.
"Alpha Ciaran," said a dry, feminine voice. It was Amyra, the vampire queen. Her cold and calculating red eyes locked onto mine with amusement.
"Countess Amyra." I bowed my head slightly, taking a seat at the table.
Across from me, Zolaiah grunted in acknowledgement. The ogre king didn’t like formalities. His tusks jutted out from chapped lips, and his enormous bulk made his chair creak under him.
"Let us begin," Rune Elarion, Princess Regent of the Bleeding Throne, said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Bab Populer