Whatever lingering fear had existed began to fade… they had been dealing with an incomprehensible entity—but if it was something they could understand, something they could grasp, then the fear was no longer unimaginable.
Fear was an ancient emotion, and the oldest kind of fear… was the fear of the unknown. But if it was known… then that fear lost its edge.
Damon had eased that fear. Even as he carried the horror in his own heart—a silent burden only he would carry.
He felt as if the ashen crown on his head grew heavier.
Truly… heavy was the head that wore the crown. Those responsible for the lives of others… were bound to the heaviest of burdens.
That was, of course, assuming they cared enough… about those they led.
He knew the truth—most of the nobility in his world… to put it in lighter words—were scum.
'To think a mere street urchin like me has the noble duty of leading blue bloods.'
