Chapter 108 Hidden Secret
I stood frozen near the mattress, my dark charcoal dress ruined and clinging to my damp skin.
Klaus stepped directly in front of me.
He had no armor. He had no coat. He wore only his dark trousers, his broad chest entirely bare. The raised, silver scars from the Trench-Stalker carved deep lines across his left side, and the necrotic black veins of the curse sat stark and bruised over his heart. But he didn't look like a wounded animal. He looked like the apex predator of the ocean.
The blood-bond in my chest flared, a blinding, white-hot surge of adrenaline crashing into my mind. I felt his absolute, lethal calm. The panic from earlier was completely gone. His mind was a terrifyingly quiet battlefield, rapidly calculating angles, distances, and vulnerabilities.
He held the small silver dagger in his right hand. The broken iron cuff still hung from his wrist, the jagged chain links swaying with a soft, metallic clink that sounded impossibly loud in the tense silence.
The guards fanned out, forming a tight half-circle around us. They lowered their halberds, the heavy steel blades pointing directly at Klaus’s scarred chest. But they hesitated. They knew who they were facing. Even half-naked and branded with a curse, the Grand Admiral commanded a terror that centuries of warfare had drilled into their bones.
The ranks parted, heavy boots stepping aside to allow a single figure to pass through.
Commander Thorne.
He wore the gold-trimmed uniform of the Emperor’s inner circle, his face a map of old scars and arrogant cruelty. He looked at the bloody washbasin, at the ruined linen on the floor, and finally at Klaus. A slow, disgusted sneer curled his upper lip as his gaze landed on the black veins pulsing faintly over Klaus’s heart.
"The rumors were true, then," Thorne rasped, his voice a dry, grating sound. "The great Grand Admiral Peregrine, reduced to a leech. Feeding on the Emperor's asset like a starving feral."
Klaus didn't move a muscle. He didn't rise to the bait. Through our tether, I felt his grip tighten on the silver dagger. His mind mapped the path: two seconds to step inside the reach of the nearest halberd, one second to drive the blade through the weak point in Thorne’s throat armor.
"You are trespassing in my quarters, Thorne," Klaus said. His voice was a deep, resonant rumble, entirely devoid of the ragged weakness that had plagued him hours ago. The blood of the First King flowed in his veins, giving him back his devastating authority.
Thorne pulled a rolled parchment from his belt, the heavy black wax seal of the Emperor dangling from the bottom.
"I am executing the will of the High Council," Thorne declared, holding the parchment up. "Klaus Falkenstein, you are hereby stripped of your rank and titles. You are charged with high treason, conspiracy against the crown, and the willful withholding of vital Imperial assets."
The words hung in the harsh, torch-lit air.
Treason. My breath caught in my throat. I pressed my hand against the cold, bare skin of Klaus’s back, my fingers trembling. The moment my skin touched his, the blood-bond surged again, a two-way street of desperate communication.
I can kill them, Klaus’s thought echoed in my mind, cold and sharp as cracked ice. I can clear this room in ten seconds.
I looked past his broad shoulder. I saw the guards in the second row raising heavy, iron-wood crossbows. The steel-tipped bolts were not aimed at Klaus. They were aimed directly at me. The Emperor was not taking chances. He knew Klaus could heal from a bolt to the chest. I could not.
No, I pushed the thought back to him, injecting every ounce of my terror into the tether. Look at the bows. If you move, they shoot. I won't survive it.
I felt a violent shudder ripple through the muscles of his back. The physical restraint required to stand down was tearing him apart. The instinct to slaughter, fueled by my blood and his centuries of warfare, screamed at him to strike.
"Lay down the weapon, Peregrine," Thorne ordered, taking a cautious step forward. He gestured to the bloody dagger in Klaus's hand. "Do not force us to butcher you in front of the Witch. The Emperor wishes to see you intact."
The silence in the suite stretched until it felt like it would snap.
I squeezed my eyes shut, resting my forehead against the hard plane of Klaus's back. Please, I begged through the bond. Live. Just live.
Klaus let out a long, slow exhale. His broad shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. The devastating, crushing wave of defeat that flooded our bond nearly brought me to my knees. It was the heavy, agonizing sorrow of a man laying down his sword to save his heart.