CHAPTER 332
It was Marcus. Lucian had personally sent his trusted servant to the High Council chambers just some hours ago to handle the growing political fallout.
Marcus shouldn't have been back so quickly. Marcus turned sharply at the sound of the splintering doors, his aristocratic face pale. The words he had been about to utter died instantly in his throat.
"Sire..." Marcus breathed, his voice dropping into a panicked whisper. The older vampire actually took a step back, his eyes widening in sheer horror at the sight before him.
Lucian was completely unrecognizable. The great Northern King was covered in black, foul-smelling mud, his clothes torn to ribbons, and his forearms were heavily charred and smoking with residual dark magic.
But it was the bundle in his arms—the deathly pale, unconscious human girl wrapped tightly in the King's sovereign coat—that made Marcus's hands visibly shake.
