The burly vampire took a menacing step forward, and the flames in the fireplace roared, their tongues lapping dangerously in my direction. I inched back, seeking refuge from the scorching heat. The larger vampire hissed, baring his fangs.
Lord Fashire stood calmly still and unaffected by the flames. It seemed like he was controlling them. I paused. Wasn't he an ice user? Now that I thought of it, earlier in the snow he had been warm, contrary to his chilly aura back at the castle.
But… the golden fangs… I looked back at the large vampire. Those fangs belonged to the purebred. The royals who ruled all other nobles.
Lord Fashire was just a noble. What noble could defeat a royal?
My heart caught in my throat as Lord Fashire spoke, his voice brimming with boundless fury, "I thought I told you to never step foot here, brother."
Brother?
