Caius's POV
I adjusted my cuffs, ensuring my look was flawless. Appearances mattered when playing host to enemies who wanted to rip out each other's necks.
"Your Highness, they've arrived." My servant Elara bowed, her pale skin nearly translucent in the candlelight.
"Show them to the Moon Hall," I directed. "And Elara? Double the guards. Discreetly."
My ancestral castle, perched on the cliffs overlooking the sea, had held ages of supernatural politics. Tonight was no different—except for the risks.
The Moon Hall glittered with silver chandeliers and ancient tapestries showing the first peace treaty between vampires and werewolves. Ironic, given how well that had turned out.
I took my place at the head of the obsidian table as they filed in—four werewolf Alphas from packs rivaling Kieran's Shadowfang, and three vampire Elders representing our noble houses.