As Dante's question about their secrecy hung in the air, Lucius took another bite of food, chewed thoughtfully, and then eborated with remarkable casualness: "Valerian is my baby brother, born from the same human mother."

  The deliberate emphasis on "human" sent visible ripples of shock through the gathering. This direct statement eliminated any possibility of misinterpretation or metaphorical brotherhood. The specificity of "same human mother" confirmed true biological retion rather than mere vampire transformation connection or political alliance.

  The mention of their human mother—something rarely discussed in vampire society—added a dimension of humanity to beings most considered beyond such origins. Vampire society had developed an unspoken agreement to minimize references to human beginnings, treating pre-transformation existence as irrelevant prehistory. Yet here was their king, explicitly identifying himself through human family connection.

  Court officials looked physically ill as the implications continued to expand. Some gripped nearby furniture for support, while others exchanged armed gnces that communicated shared distress without requiring words. The revetion of brotherhood was politically significant, but the casual acknowledgment of human origins represented a fundamental challenge to vampire identity itself.

  Nova watched with fascination, his attention shifting between the brothers and the assembled vampires. He noticed how this familial revetion seemed to affect those present even more profoundly than Lucius's earlier dispy of power—as if acknowledging human origins somehow diminished the king more than unleashing supernatural dominance had elevated him.

  The concept of biological family retionships had become almost taboo in vampire society. Most vampires preferred to forget their human origins entirely, considering those connections severed by transformation. Fathers, mothers, siblings—all deliberately consigned to forgotten history as vampires embraced their supposedly superior existence.

  Lucius's comfortable reference to their human mother didn't just acknowledge this retionship but elevated it to defining significance. After two thousand years, he still identified Valerian primarily as his brother rather than fellow Archduke or military ally. This revolutionary challenge to vampire society's deliberate amnesia suggested that human connections might retain value even after transformation—a concept that fundamentally undermined the superiority complex central to vampire identity.

  The brothers' easy acceptance of their human origins stood in stark contrast to typical vampire rejection of pre-transformation identity. They appeared entirely comfortable with this acknowledgment, suggesting they had maintained this perspective throughout their two millennia of existence rather than recently adopting it.

  "You remember her?" Seraphina asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The question revealed how extraordinary this acknowledgment truly was—most vampires lost detailed human memories within decades of transformation, whether through deliberate suppression or the natural fading that came with centuries of new experiences.

  "Of course," Valerian responded with military directness, still holding Lord Darius by the colr as if the noble weighed nothing. "She gave birth to us. How could we forget?"

  The simplicity of this response—treating remembrance of human origins as natural rather than aberrant—represented another profound challenge to vampire identity. In a society built on deliberate separation from humanity, the king and his brother maintained connection to their origins without apparent conflict or diminishment.