Cassius was no stranger to impossible demands. His father had once ordered him to conquer an entire kingdom overnight, and the insatiable vampires at court constantly whined for more human livestock, despite their own reckless indulgence leaving corpses drained to dust.
But tonight, his little bird had asked for something far more absurd.
She wanted him to abolish the practice of keeping human pets, something she failed to realize would only tip the balance further against her kind.
Yes, it was heartless to use humans as livestock, but it was the only way to curb the more insolent vampires—the ones who would attack human villages under the guise of "hunger." Without the human pets, the court's delicate, bloody balance would shatter, and the ensuing chaos would be deadlier than anything Arabella could imagine.
Yet, strangely, he felt no anger at her audacity. No urge to mock her foolishness.
