Chapter 135 Chains Bound
I looked down at my wrists. The iron shackles Thorne had locked on me before his throat was opened were still there. The short, rusted chain connecting them clinked every time I breathed. My midnight-black silk gown was a ruin—stiff with dried blood, torn at the hem, and smelling of the salt and rot that clung to everything in this Citadel.
Through the blood-bond anchored in my chest, I felt the exact moment the tide began to recede in the Abyssal Dungeon.
The phantom pressure of freezing water against my lungs eased. The drowning sensation that had been rattling my ribs for hours slowly faded into a dull, throbbing ache. I gasped, dragging in a lungful of the dry, stagnant air of the Throne Room, my shoulders shaking with a violent, involuntary tremor.
I closed my eyes, picturing him. I knew he was chained to a weeping stone wall, his arms pulled above his head, his bare chest scarred and shivering. I felt the stinging salt in his open wounds and the heavy, metallic heat of the collar searing his throat. Because of the blood-bond, I wasn't just watching him suffer; I was living it with him.
"You look pathetic, little fish."
The voice was sharp, cutting through the silence of the hall. I didn't open my eyes. I knew the click of those heels. Lady Vespera walked up to the cage, the silk of her crimson riding habit rustling like a snake in dry grass. She tapped her black lace fan against the gold bars.
"The Emperor is losing his patience," she murmured. I could smell her perfume—heavy jasmine and something metallic, like a fresh kill. "He expected you to be singing for your supper by now. Instead, you sit there in your own filth, staring at nothing."
I finally opened my eyes. I didn't look at her face; I looked at her throat. I imagined the exact spot where the obsidian dagger would have gone if she had been the one standing next to Klaus on the execution block.
"Is Thorne’s replacement as incompetent as he was?" I asked. My voice was a dry, scraping rasp, ruined by dehydration and the phantom drowning. "Or are you just here to see if the gold needs polishing?"
Vespera’s eyes flashed a dangerous, burning red. She reached through the bars, her hand moving with a blur of vampire speed, and grabbed a fistful of my dark hair. She jerked my head forward, slamming my face against the cold metal.
I didn't cry out. I bit my tongue, the taste of warm copper flooding my mouth, and stared at her.
"Thorne was a brute," Vespera hissed, her face inches from mine. "But he was loyal. You killed a Commander of the Empire, Nerissa. You think this cage is your punishment? This is just the waiting room. If you don't start singing, the Emperor will start taking pieces of the Admiral. A finger today. An eye tomorrow. He’ll keep the man alive just long enough for you to feel every single cut."
She let go of my hair, shoving me back onto the velvet cushion. I slumped against the gold bars, my chest heaving. Through the bond, I felt a spike of protective fury from Klaus, a snarl of dark energy that died out almost instantly as the suppressor runes burned brighter.
"He won't break," I said, wiping a smear of blood from my lip with the back of my chained hand. "And neither will I."
Vespera laughed. It was a cold, brittle sound. "We’ll see how long that resolve lasts when the starvation really sets in. An immortal’s hunger is a beautiful, terrible thing to witness."
She turned on her heel and walked away, her heels clacking a triumphant rhythm against the marble until the heavy obsidian doors groaned shut behind her.
The silence returned, heavier than before.
I sat in the center of the cage, staring at the shattered crystal goblet on the floor just outside the bars. The water the Emperor had offered me earlier had dried into a dull stain on the stone. My throat felt like it was filled with hot ash. Every swallow was a struggle.
I reached out through the tether, searching for Klaus.
The connection was growing muddy. The starvation the Emperor had ordered was beginning to take its toll. Klaus’s mind was slipping into a dark, primal fog. I felt the gnawing, acidic ache in his stomach—a predatory hollowness that made his fangs throb with a desperate, burning need.
Klaus, I whispered in my mind. Stay with me. Don't look at the dark.
It is hard, Nerissa, he replied. The thought was jagged, vibrating with a frantic edge I hadn't felt before. The hunger… it is louder than your voice. I can smell the guards in the hall. I can smell the old blood in the stone. I want… I want to tear the world apart.