Adrian’s POV
I was already moving.
I crossed the room in two strides, snatched the phone before it stopped bouncing, and crushed it to my ear.
“Speak,” I snarled, voice barely human. “I’m listening.”
The voice on the other end was calm. Cold, furious, shaking with rage, yet still dipped in the respect every lesser king is expected to give the Central Throne.
It was King Ariston. My mate’s father.
“Your Majesty,” he rasped, every syllable a blade.
“Tell me why my daughter’s Vyris is withered.”
I went completely still.
Vyris.
The midnight-blooming flower every royal bloodline in all the four regions plants at the birth of their offspring. A single drop of newborn blood in sacred soil, a single black seed dipped into it.
The flower grows with the child, drinks moonlight, lives as
