Damien Nevermore, The Vampire King
The polished oak table felt like it was searing into my skin. President Elijah droned on about his "impeccable" security measures along the borders. With every syllable that escaped his lips, a surge of anger threatened to erupt within me.
"Rest assured, Your Majesty," Elijah continued, his voice a grating whine. "Our borders are impenetrable. No unauthorized person could have crossed into Mortdevori without the Capitol's express permission. The perpetrator, or perpetrators, must already be within your walls."
Absurd. The very notion sent a scoff rolling off my tongue. Vampires, as a species, were fiercely loyal. Gone were the days of warring lineages, petty squabbles fueled by ancient grudges. My father, with his iron fist and unparalleled charisma, h
