Chapter 10 Court of Thorns
The dress was a cage of sapphire silk.
It was beautiful, objectively. The fabric shimmered like the surface of the ocean under moonlight, tight at the bodice and flowing out into a train that looked like liquid water. But as Rook tightened the laces at my back, pulling them until my ribs creaked, I didn't feel like a princess. I felt like a doll being packaged for sale.
"Tight enough?" Rook squeaked, his small, clay-colored fingers trembling as he tied the final knot.
"I can't breathe," I said.
"Good," a voice came from the doorway. "Breathing implies panic. Panic makes you pitchy."
I turned.
Klaus was leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed for war, though it was disguised as formal wear. His high-collared coat was black velvet, embroidered with silver thread that traced the shapes of hawk wings across his shoulders. A ceremonial sword hung at his hip, the hilt encrusted with obsidian.
But the finery couldn't hide the truth.
He looked terrible.
His skin, usually the color of polished ivory, had a grey, ashy undertone. There were dark bruises of exhaustion under his eyes, and he stood with a rigid stiffness, as if holding himself upright required a conscious effort of will.
He was dying. And today, I was going to ask him to die a little faster.
"The week is up," he said, his voice rougher than usual, like stones grinding together. "The Emperor is waiting."
"I'm not ready," I whispered, my hands smoothing the silk over my hips. "I can't do the human note. It’s too quiet. They won't like it."
"They don't have to like it," Klaus said, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward me. "They just have to believe it."
He stopped in front of me. He reached out and adjusted the diamond collar Rook had clasped around my neck. His fingers brushed my skin.
"Listen to me," he said, his sapphire eyes locking onto mine. "Vespera will be there. She will try to bait you. She will try to make you angry so you lose control and shatter the windows. If you shatter the windows, the Emperor will see you as a threat, not an asset. And he destroys threats."
"And if I'm too boring?" I asked. "He destroys useless things, too."
"Then be interesting," Klaus said. "But be human."
He held out his arm.
"Come. It’s time to face the sharks."
I took his arm. The wool of his coat was scratchy against my fingertips. Beneath the fabric, his muscles were rock hard, tensed for a fight.
We walked out of the tower, down the spiraling stairs, and into the belly of the Citadel.
The Throne Room was different this time.
Hundreds of vampires crowded the hall. The air was thick with the scent of crushed roses, iron, and the musk of excited predators. They whispered as we walked down the central aisle, their voices a low, buzzing hum.
"Look at the fish."
"Is she wearing Falkenstein’s colors?"
"I hear her blood tastes like salt and magic."
I kept my chin high, staring straight ahead at the raised dais where the Emperor sat. I focused on the rhythm of Klaus’s boots on the stone floor.
To the left of the throne stood Lady Vespera.
She was wearing a gown of blood-red lace. In her hands, she held a glass jar filled with clear liquid. She caught my eye and tapped a long, manicured fingernail against the glass.
The jar was empty. Waiting.
My stomach twisted into a knot. I gripped Klaus’s arm tighter. He didn't look at me, but he covered my hand with his gloved one, squeezing it once. A silent command.
We stopped at the foot of the stairs. Klaus bowed low. I curtsied, my legs shaking only slightly.
"Your Eminence," Klaus said, his voice projecting clearly through the cavernous room. "I present Nerissa Thalassyne. The Voice of the Empire."
The Emperor leaned forward on his throne. His milky blind eyes seemed to dissect me.
"Seven days," the Emperor rasped. "My patience is a thin thread, Lord Falkenstein. Show me it was not wasted."
He waved a bony hand. "Sing."
The silence that fell over the room was absolute. Every eye was on me. Every ear was strained.
I let go of Klaus’s arm. I stepped forward, into the center of the spotlight.
I closed my eyes. I pictured the wall I had built in my mind. The dam holding back the ocean. I pushed the magic down, deep into the dark, until I felt small. Ordinary.
I opened my mouth.
I sang the ballad Klaus had taught me. It was an old vampire folk song about the moon loving the night.
My voice came out clear. melodious. It was technically perfect. I hit every note. I controlled my breathing. It was a pretty song sung by a pretty girl in a pretty dress.
I sang for two minutes.
When I finished, the silence stretched.
It wasn't the stunned silence of awe. It was the awkward silence of disappointment.
Someone in the back coughed.
The Emperor didn't move. He sat frozen, his expression unreadable.
Then, Vespera laughed.
It was a sharp, cruel sound. "Oh, Peri," she giggled, stepping forward. "Is that it? It sounds like a tavern wench humming for copper coins. Where is the power? Where is the siren who sinks ships?"
"She is controlled," Klaus said, his voice tight. "She is safe."
"She is boring!" Vespera snapped. She turned to the Emperor. "Your Eminence, this is an insult. He has broken her spirit. There is no magic left. She is useless."
The Emperor tilted his head. "It was... underwhelming."
"I can fix her," Vespera offered eagerly, holding up the jar. "Let me take the tongue. The blood will be far more potent if we distill it."
"No," Klaus said, stepping between me and the throne. His hand went to the hilt of his sword.
A ripple of shock went through the court. To draw a weapon in the presence of the Emperor was death.
"She is not finished," Klaus lied. I could hear the desperation in his voice. "She needs time to warm up."
"She has had a week," the Emperor said coldly. He looked at me. "Sing again, little fish. And this time... make me feel something. Or Vespera gets her souvenir."
I looked at Klaus.
He was standing rigid, his back to me. I could see the tension in his neck. I could hear the faint, wet rattle of his breath.
He was ready to fight them all. He would draw his sword. He would kill maybe ten of them before the Emperor dissolved him. He would die for me.
And if I sang with magic, he would die too. The Anchor bond would rip him apart.
It was a trap. A choice between his death by sword or his death by song.
I looked at Vespera. I looked at the jar.
Then I looked at the crowd. They were bored. They wanted a show.
I took a breath.
I didn't push the magic down this time. But I didn't let it explode either. I didn't reach for the anger, or the hate, or the sonic force that shattered glass.
I reached for the sorrow.
I reached for the feeling of the cold rock where I had transformed. I reached for the look in my father’s eyes when he banished me. I reached for the terrifying, confusing safety of Klaus’s arms.
I let the magic bleed into my voice, but I shaped it. I didn't make it a weapon. I made it a ghost.
I started to hum.
It wasn't a song with words. It was a melody from the deep trenches, a funeral dirge for dead whales.
The sound started low, vibrating in the floorboards.
I saw Klaus stiffen. He flinched, his hand flying to his chest, clutching the fabric of his coat.
I almost stopped. I'm hurting him.
But he didn't turn around. He stood his ground. Keep going, his posture said. Don't stop.
I opened my throat and let the song rise.
It was haunting. It was the sound of pure, distilled grief. It wove through the air, bypassing the ears and sinking straight into the chest.
A vampire in the front row, a massive brute with scars on his face dropped his goblet. It clattered to the floor, spilling red wine, but he didn't notice. He was staring at nothing, tears of blood leaking from his eyes.
Another vampire, a woman, sank to her knees, clutching her chest, sobbing silently.
The magic wasn't breaking their bones. It was breaking their hearts. It was forcing them to feel the eternity of their own death, the loneliness of their immortality.
I looked at the Emperor.
He wasn't bored anymore. He was leaning forward, gripping the arms of his throne so hard the wood splintered. His blind eyes were wide. A single, dark tear tracked down his pale, wrinkled cheek.
I sang the final note. I let it hang in the air, shimmering like a breaking wave, before letting it fade into a whisper.
Silence returned.
But this was different. This was the heavy, suffocating silence of a room full of people who had just remembered they were damned.
Vespera dropped the jar.
It shattered on the stone floor. The sound was deafening.
"Beautiful," the Emperor whispered.
He stood up. He looked at me with a hunger that was terrifying, but it wasn't the hunger for food. It was the hunger for possession.
"The despair," the Emperor murmured, wiping his cheek. "It tastes... exquisite."
He pointed at Klaus.
"You have done well, Lord Falkenstein. She is a masterpiece."
Klaus bowed. He didn't speak. He couldn't.
"Take her back to the tower," the Emperor commanded, waving his hand. "Feed her whatever she wants. I want her ready for the Solstice. I want her to make the ambassadors of the Lycan clans weep like children."
"Yes, Your Eminence," Klaus choked out.
He turned to me.
His face was a mask of stone, but his eyes were glassy. He grabbed my arm too hard and practically dragged me away.
We walked out of the throne room. The vampires parted for us like the Red Sea, staring at me with awe and terror.
We made it to the corridor. We turned the corner, out of sight of the guards.
Klaus stumbled.
"Klaus!"
I caught him as he fell. He was heavy, dead weight crashing against me. We slid down the wall together.
He was coughing violently, his whole body seizing.
"Help!" I shouted, looking down the empty hallway.
"Quiet," Klaus wheezed. He grabbed my wrist, his grip weak. "Don't... call them."
He hacked again, and black fluid splattered onto the grey silk of my dress. It was thick, viscous, smelling of rot.
He leaned his head back against the stone wall, gasping for air. His lips were stained black. His skin was grey.
"You used... the magic," he rasped, closing his eyes.
"I had to," I cried, wiping the black blood from his chin with the sleeve of my dress. I didn't care about the silk. "Vespera was going to take me. You were going to fight them."
"It worked," he whispered. A ghost of a smile touched his lips—a bloody, terrible smile. "Did you see... Vespera's face?"
"I don't care about Vespera! Look at you!"
"I'm fine," he lied. He tried to sit up and failed.
"You're not fine! You're dying!"
"I am merely... paying the toll."
He opened his eyes and looked at me. The sapphire light was dim, flickering like a candle in the wind.
"You saved yourself," he said softly. "You didn't need me."
"I did it for you," I confessed, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "I sang so you wouldn't have to draw your sword."
He stared at me. The realization hit him, and his expression crumbled.
"You foolish girl," he murmured. He reached up, his hand shaking, and touched the damp hair at my temple. "You shouldn't save the monster. That's not how the story goes."
"I don't like this story," I whispered, leaning my forehead against his. He was cold, so cold. "I want to change it."
"Then you better learn to write fast," Klaus breathed. "Because I don't think... I have many chapters left."
He slumped against me, the exhaustion finally winning.
I held him there in the dark hallway, the scent of crushed roses and black blood filling the air.