Chapter 110 Vespera Knows
"Bring him to the steps," a dry, papery whisper echoed through the cavernous hall.
The Emperor sat on his throne of carved ivory and bone, his blind, milky eyes fixed on the empty space before him. His skeletal fingers rested lightly on the armrests, tapping a slow, rhythmic cadence that made the hair on my arms stand up.
Commander Thorne shoved Klaus forward.
Klaus stumbled. The heavy iron suppressor collar locked around his neck was doing its job with brutal efficiency. The runes carved into the dark metal hissed, burning an angry, blistering red against his pale skin. Through the blood-bond anchoring my chest to his, I felt the suffocating void the collar created. It was like breathing through a thick, wet wool blanket. It smothered his immortal strength, stripping away the magic that fortified his bones and muscles, leaving him heavy and agonizingly mortal.
Thorne kicked the back of Klaus’s knees.
Klaus hit the marble floor hard. The heavy iron chains binding his wrists rattled sharply in the quiet room. He knelt at the base of the dais, his broad, bare chest heaving. The raised silver scars from the Trench-Stalker stretched tight across his ribs, and the black, necrotic veins of my ancestor's curse sat stark and bruised over his heart.
The guards holding my arms dragged me forward, forcing me to a halt ten feet behind him. The steel of their gauntlets bit into my biceps, bruising the flesh beneath my ruined dark grey dress.
I stared at Klaus’s back, fighting the frantic, rising tide of terror in my throat.
I am here, I pushed the thought through our tether. It was a weak, trembling pulse in the dark.
A faint, reassuring pressure echoed back. He couldn't form words through the crushing weight of the suppressor iron, but he was holding onto my mind with a desperate, white-knuckled grip.
"Look at him," the Emperor announced, his voice carrying effortlessly over the silent court. He raised a bony hand, gesturing to the kneeling man. "The hero of the Northern Seas. The Grand Admiral who broke the Lycan lords. Reduced to a shivering, chained dog on my floor."
A low murmur of agreement rippled through the gallery. I saw Vespera standing near the front row, wearing her blood-red silk gown. She held a black lace fan over her mouth, but her eyes were bright with a triumphant, malicious glee.
"You have kept a secret from me, Peregrine," the Emperor continued, leaning forward. His midnight robes pooled around his skeletal frame. "For three hundred years, you stood by my side. You led my fleets. You expanded my empire. And all the while, you harbored the rot of the deep."
"I kept the ocean alive," Klaus rasped. His voice was a ruined, gravelly sound, stripped of its booming authority, but his tone was absolute iron. He lifted his head, glaring up at the blind ruler. "I carried the weight of the Siren's curse so your commercial ships wouldn't dissolve in the sludge."
"You did not do it for the Empire," the Emperor countered smoothly. He stood up, his frail body trembling slightly as he descended the first two steps of the dais. "You did it because you are a weak, sentimental fool who fell in love with a disease."
The Emperor snapped his fingers.
Thorne stepped forward, holding up a small object for the court to see.
It was the silver dagger from Klaus's writing desk. The blade was entirely coated in dried, flaking crimson blood. My blood.
The collective gasp from the vampires in the hall was deafening. The scent of human blood, of Siren blood, was distinct. To see it presented like this, to realize what it meant, sent a wave of absolute revulsion through the aristocratic crowd.
"He did not just harbor the weapon," the Emperor sneered, his lip curling in disgust. "He drank from it. The Grand Admiral fed on the Siren to heal his own failing flesh. He bound himself to the parasite."
"Heresy," an older lord hissed from the gallery.
"Feral beast," another muttered.
I gritted my teeth, pulling against the guards holding my arms. "He drank it because I forced him to! He was dying!"
"Silence the Witch," Thorne barked.
The guard on my right backhanded me. The heavy steel of his gauntlet caught me sharply across the cheekbone.
My head snapped to the side. The taste of warm copper instantly flooded my mouth as my inner lip tore against my teeth. I sagged, my knees buckling, but the guards hauled me upright by my armpits.
A deafening, feral roar tore through the room.
Klaus surged upward from the floor. He ignored the heavy chains binding his wrists. He ignored the burning runes of the iron collar searing his throat. The sheer, terrifying force of his rage overrode the suppressor metal for a fraction of a second. He lunged at the guard who had struck me, his chained hands swinging like a massive iron club.
The heavy chain caught the guard directly in the chest armor, crushing the steel plate inward with a sickening crunch. The guard flew backward, crashing into the polished marble pillars.
Before Klaus could turn on the second guard, Thorne drove the heavy wooden shaft of his halberd directly into the back of Klaus’s head.
Klaus dropped like a stone.
He hit the floor, his face smashing into the marble. Blood immediately began to pool beneath his nose and split lip.