Ulric Bloodfang, The Lycan King
The President's grudging agreement hung heavy in the air. Relief warred with suspicion within me. Confined within this manor? It reeked of a trap, a cage decorated with the promise of proximity to Isabella. Eirik's sly grin confirmed it. The elf king was playing some long game, and I was sure of it.
"What are the conditions?" I demanded, my voice low and guttural. This concession reeked of desperation on the humans' part, but why? What were they truly afraid of?
President Hearts, his face a mask of strained contemplation, finally spoke. "During your stay here," he began, each word measured and deliberate, "there will be no weapons allowed, no security details, just you yourselves."
A scoff ripped through me. No weapons? We were kings, rulers of our own l
