“I know that I terrified you that night when I killed that Jester and I know that your life has been flipped completely up side down.”
I couldn’t help but notice his usually bright and beautiful golden eyes had gone black. Brown veins shot from the perimeters of his sclera connecting to his pupils.
“I know this may all seem like I’m just trying to prove a point to my father or that I’m doing all of this to be King but I need that throne if I want the future to be better.”
“Better how?” I whispered. His hands dropped to his sides and he took a step back.
“The way my father is running things now, I don’t agree with it. For hundreds of years Cold Ones have bred villagers to use as their own personal blood supply. The Cold Ones have a treaty with the werewolves, they get the corpses of the dead villagers to feed on when we are done with them. Keeps them from feeding off of foreigners.”