Caius's POV
Blood dripped from my hands as I stood in my private rooms. Not my blood—I hadn't bled in over four hundred years. This blood belonged to the messenger who'd brought me news I didn't want to hear.
"Tell me again," I said, my voice colder than the stone beneath my feet. "Every word."
The messenger shook, his neck bearing the marks of my grip. "The Elder Council refuses your request, Prince Caius. They say this war isn't ours to fight."
Fools. All of them.
I wiped my hands clean and smoothed my black jacket. "Leave."
After he scrambled away, I stared out the window of my castle. The Blood Moon would rise in three nights. By then, we needed to be ready.
The door opened behind me. Lord Vincent, my oldest counselor, entered with a scroll in his hands.
"The elders are gathering in the Great Hall," he said. "They're not happy about being summoned at this hour."
I smiled. "Good. They shouldn't be comfortable."
