CHAPTER 70: THE VAMPIRE DEBT
VEYLAN'S POV
The copper stench of the lower ritual vault was entirely beneath the dignity of the royal line, a foul and primitive reminder of the lengths to which the radicalized dregs of my own kind would sink when driven by ancient, unreasoning fanaticism. Yet it was not the slaughtered remains of the heretics littering the damp volcanic stone that disrupted the calculated equilibrium of my court, nor was it the violent entry of the Blackmoor Alphas. It was the sight of the hybrid's blood—thick, vibrant, and humming with a strange, dual celestial resonance—staining my sister's silver bonds that truly altered the paradigm of the evening.
