Chapter 125 Shattered Trust
A terrified human servant scurried in, carrying a massive garment bag made of dark, opaque canvas. The servant draped the bag carefully over the foot of my four-poster bed, bowed deeply without making eye contact, and practically ran back out into the hall.
Vespera closed the door behind her, though I heard the deadbolt lock us inside together.
"A hot bath and a full stomach," Vespera observed, her red eyes sweeping over the silver tray and my wet, towel-wrapped body. She smiled, a slow, malicious curving of her lips that showed the sharp tips of her fangs. "You are adjusting to court life much faster than I anticipated, Nerissa."
"What do you want, Vespera?" I asked, keeping my voice perfectly flat. I didn't stand up. I didn't give her the respect of treating her like a threat.
Vespera walked slowly across the plush rug, trailing her long, pale fingers over the back of a velvet armchair.
"I came to deliver your gown for tomorrow night," she said smoothly, gesturing toward the canvas bag on the bed. "The Emperor insisted you wear something appropriate for the occasion. Black silk. Very traditional for an executioner."
I looked at the bag, feeling a cold knot pull tight in my stomach. "How generous of him."
"He is thrilled, you know," Vespera continued, pacing slowly toward the fireplace. The orange light cast harsh, dancing shadows across her flawless face. "He expected you to fight. He expected you to scream and beg and throw yourself over the Admiral’s chained body. But you simply looked at him and chose your ocean. It was incredibly pragmatic."
She stopped pacing and turned to face me. Her red eyes narrowed, probing my face, searching for a lie.
"Though, I must admit," Vespera murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I am slightly disappointed. I thought your little romance was real. I thought the Grand Admiral had finally found something worth dying for."
I picked up the crystal goblet and took a slow, deliberate sip of water. I placed the glass back on the silver tray, making sure my hand didn't tremble.
"I made a political decision, Vespera," I said coldly, looking her dead in the eye. "Do not confuse it with sentiment. My kingdom was dying. Klaus was the filter. The filter broke. I am simply removing the broken piece."
Vespera stared at me, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second. She didn't expect the utter, chilling detachment in my voice. I sounded exactly like the Emperor.
"He hasn't spoken a word, you know," Vespera said cruelly, trying a different angle. She stepped closer to the table, leaning forward. "Thorne went down to the holding cells an hour ago to check the chains. The Admiral is just kneeling in the dark. He didn't even look up when Thorne kicked him. He looks completely hollowed out."
The words felt like a serrated knife dragging across my ribs. A tiny, microscopic crack formed in my mental wall of ice, and a rush of Klaus's agonizing, silent despair leaked through. My breath hitched, but I quickly swallowed it, slamming the ice back into place before she could see the flinch.
"He is a traitor to the crown," I replied, forcing my face to remain bored, almost annoyed by the conversation. "His current state is none of my concern."
Vespera studied me for a long, quiet moment. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the crackle of the fire. She was looking for the grieving girl, the desperate lover she had seen in the arena. But I had buried that girl under the ice.
Finally, Vespera laughed. It was a sharp, brittle sound.
"You truly are a monster, aren't you?" she said, her tone laced with genuine, twisted admiration. "You let him tear himself to pieces in the arena to save your throat, and now you are going to cut his heart out to save your fish."
She turned and walked toward the heavy mahogany door.
"The execution is at midnight," Vespera called over her shoulder as she knocked twice on the wood for the guards to open it. "The Emperor will have Klaus chained to the marble block in the center of the Throne Room. Thorne will be standing directly to his left to hold the leash. You will stand on his right. Try not to miss the heart, little fish. Obsidian shatters if you hit the ribs."
The door opened. Vespera stepped out into the hall, and the iron deadbolt slammed shut, sealing me back in my gilded prison.
I sat perfectly still at the table until the sound of her high heels faded completely down the corridor.
Then, I let out a long, shaky exhale.
Thorne will be standing directly to his left. You will stand on his right.
Vespera had just given me the exact tactical layout of the execution. In her eagerness to gloat, to twist the knife, she had handed me the blueprint for my attack.
I stood up from the table, leaving the half-eaten food behind. I walked over to the four-poster bed and unzipped the dark canvas garment bag.
The dress inside was stunning. It was made of heavy, midnight-black silk, designed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The bodice was tight and structured, the skirt long and flowing, meant to pool dramatically on the blood-stained marble of the Throne Room. It was a gown made for a widow. Or a killer.
I ran my hand over the smooth, cold fabric.
The Emperor wanted a show. He wanted to break me in front of his entire court, to prove that even the Siren of the deep could be brought to heel. He thought he had severed the Anchor by breaking Klaus’s spirit and forcing my hand.
I turned away from the bed and walked to the tall windows.
The night sky over the Sapphire Sea was pitch black, devoid of stars. The ocean churned far below the Citadel, a violent, restless mass of dark water hitting the jagged cliffs.
I pressed my hand against the cold glass.
I am so sorry, Klaus, I whispered into the quiet room, staring out into the dark. I know you are starving. I know you think I left you behind.