Chapter 870 Shadows of the Throne

• Annabeth leaned in, every sense sharpened, absorbing the queen's confession with the attentiveness of a soldier receiving battlefield coordinates.
• "I realized the changes in Loki's father about ten years ago," Isabella continued. "The shift was subtle at first, but unmistakable after he returned from a solitary visit to the Royal Mausoleum. From that day on, countless small habits—his gait, his scent, even the way he spoke to the servants—slipped out of alignment with the man I had once known. Then came the night when the truth bled through the curtains. I saw him hiding in a deserted corridor, lifting a crystal decanter of fresh blood to his lips, and terror danced across his face whenever torchlight brushed him."
• A shiver rippled through Isabella ever so slightly. "After that, every diplomatic audience took place in the deepest shade of the colonnades, as though one stray sunbeam might set him ablaze. He scarcely lies beside me anymore; our marriage bed has turned to marble. You know the family's buried history, Yardley, so you understand what I saw—he has become a vampire. And—most damning of all—he is not the rightful king."