Chapter 102 Bond Awakens
The fever finally broke just before dawn.
I knew the exact second it happened because the phantom fire roasting my own veins suddenly cooled into a dull, manageable ache. The blood-bond I had forged between us was a cruel, unrelenting teacher. It didn't just share his emotions; it forced me to carry the echoes of his physical ruin. For two days, I had burned with him, shivering on the edge of the mattress as his body fought the massive influx of toxic magic I had screamed into the arena.
I sat up, my joints cracking in the quiet gloom of the East Wing suite. The air still tasted of stale copper and dried sweat, but the oppressive, suffocating scent of the deep-sea rot had faded.
I looked down at Klaus.
He was breathing. It was a shallow, ragged sound, but it was steady. The dark, necrotic tissue over his heart had retreated slightly, the violent black turning to a dormant, bruised purple. The silver blood I had wiped from his torn side had finally stopped seeping.
He looked devastatingly fragile. The Grand Admiral, the terror of the northern seas, was reduced to a pale, scarred man sinking into the center of a blood-stained mattress.
I pushed myself off the bed, my bare feet silent against the cold stone floor. Sulla had somehow managed to bribe the guards earlier in the night, slipping a pitcher of warm water and a stack of clean linen through the narrow slot in the iron door. I walked to the washbasin, pouring the steaming water into the porcelain bowl.
I unwrapped the crude bandage from my left hand. The slice across my palm, where I had drawn the blood to feed him, was red and angry, but it was scabbing over. I ignored the sting as I dipped a fresh white cloth into the warm water, wringing it out.
When I returned to the bed, Klaus’s sapphire eyes were open.
They were hazy, entirely unfocused, tracking the dust motes dancing in the weak light filtering through the high window. As I sat on the edge of the mattress, his gaze slowly dragged over to me.
"You're awake," I whispered, my voice still a ruined, gravelly rasp from the scream that had shattered the Trench-Stalker.
He blinked, his brow furrowing as if the simple act of recognizing me required a monumental effort. Through the invisible tether humming in my chest, I felt a wave of profound, disorienting exhaustion wash over him. He tried to push himself up on his elbows.
Instantly, a sharp, tearing pain spiked in my own side.
I gasped, dropping the warm cloth onto my lap. I pressed my hand against my ribs, riding the shockwave of his agony.
Klaus collapsed back against the pillows with a harsh hiss, his eyes squeezing shut.
"Stop," I scolded him, my voice trembling. I leaned over, pressing my hands flat against his uninjured right shoulder to keep him pinned. "Do not move. Your ribs are shattered, Klaus. If you tear the muscle again, I'm going to feel it."
He opened his eyes, looking at me with a mixture of awe and bitter frustration. "The blood-bond," he rasped. His throat sounded as raw as mine. "You actually did it."
"You were dying," I said simply.
I picked up the warm cloth and gently pressed it against his collarbone, wiping away a smear of dried sweat and grime. The heat of the water seemed to startle him, a small shudder running through his massive frame.
"I hate this," he muttered, his jaw clenching as I moved the cloth over the heavy bands of muscle on his chest, carefully avoiding the dormant curse over his heart.
"You hate warm water?"
"I hate being weak," he corrected, his voice dropping to a dark, humiliated low. "I hate that you have to look at me like this. I am supposed to be the wall between you and the Emperor. Look at me, Nerissa. I can't even sit up."
I stopped wiping his chest. I looked at his face, at the deep, dark circles under his eyes and the stubborn, defensive set of his mouth.
"You stood between me and a beast that weighed two tons," I reminded him. "You let it tear you to shreds because you didn't want me to sing. You have spent three hundred years swallowing the poison of my bloodline just so my ocean wouldn't choke on it." I threw the cloth back into the basin, the water splashing over the sides. "Do not sit there and talk to me about weakness."
He closed his eyes, turning his face away from me, toward the dark stone wall. "If they come through that door right now, I cannot protect you."
Through the tether in my chest, his fear bled into me. It was a suffocating, terrifying panic. It had nothing to do with his own survival. He was entirely consumed by the thought of the Emperor's guards dragging me out of the room while he lay paralyzed on the mattress.
I reached out, grabbing his chin, and forced him to look at me.
"They aren't coming through the door today," I said, my tone absolute. "And if they do, I will shatter every bone in their bodies before they touch you. We take turns, Klaus. You anchored me. Now I anchor you."
He stared at me, the tension in his jaw slowly relaxing. The panic in our shared bond began to recede, replaced by a heavy, aching tide of affection that made my throat tighten. It was so vast, so incredibly deep, it felt like drowning in warm water.
He reached up with his right hand. The heavy, broken iron cuff still dangled from his wrist, the jagged links clinking against the mattress. His large, calloused fingers wrapped around my left hand. He looked at the angry red scab slashing across my palm.
"You gave me the source," he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the edge of the wound. "You gave me the blood of the First King. You have tied yourself to a sinking ship, little fish."
"Then we sink together."