The Glacial Crown at midnight was not a place of rest; it was a fortress of humming, sapphire static. The air in the royal wing vibrated with the collective breathing of a thousand ancient spells, each designed to detect the slightest flicker of unauthorized heat. To any other intruder, the palace was an impenetrable labyrinth of ice. But Kassian was not an ordinary intruder. He was a man who had spent his life navigating the vipers' nests of the West, and he was currently fueled by a mixture of "Liquid Moonlight" and a primal, possessive rage that even the North couldn't freeze.
"Damon," Kassian whispered, his voice a low vibration that barely disturbed the frost on the walls.
