Chapter 115 War Begins
"Look at me," I whispered.
He opened his eyes. The black dilation had receded just a fraction, the vibrant sapphire fighting its way back to the surface.
"I am not prey," I told him, projecting the absolute, unshakable certainty of my soul through the tether. "And you are not a beast. You are my Anchor."
I moved my hand down to the heavy iron collar burning around his neck. The metal was blisteringly hot. I hissed as the heat seared my fingertips, but I didn't pull away. I pressed my palm flat against the runes, letting the pain anchor us both in the reality of the present.
"I am so sorry," Klaus breathed, his forehead dropping to rest heavily against my shoulder. The chains clinked softly as he slumped, his strength entirely spent. "I failed you."
"You kept me alive," I corrected, burying my face in his wet, silver hair. "Now we survive the rest of it together."
The harsh, grating sound of Thorne’s voice shattered the quiet intimacy of the cell.
"Touching," Thorne sneered from the doorway, holding his torch higher. "A tragedy written in filth. Cut him down. The Emperor is waiting."
Two guards waded into the water, their heavy iron boots splashing loudly. One of them raised a heavy iron key, slotting it into the mechanism bolted to the weeping stone wall.
The locks on Klaus’s wrists snapped open.
Without the chains holding his weight, his body simply gave out. He collapsed forward into the freezing water.
I caught him, throwing my arms around his waist, but his dead weight dragged us both down. We hit the water hard. The freezing, foul-smelling brine rushed over my face and into my mouth. I choked, coughing up the bitter taste of salt and decay, struggling frantically to keep his head above the surface.
The guards didn't offer a hand. They simply grabbed the heavy iron chain attached to Klaus's suppressor collar and yanked backward with brutal, unforgiving force.
Klaus choked, his hands flying to his throat as the iron bit deeply into his windpipe. He was dragged through the water like a slaughtered animal, his heavy body scraping against the rough, uneven stone floor of the cell.
"Stop!" I shrieked, scrambling to my feet. My soaked, heavy wool dress weighed me down, tangling dangerously around my legs. "You're choking him!"
"He doesn't need to breathe, Witch," Thorne remarked dryly, turning his back on us and heading for the spiral stairs. "Bring them both."
The nearest guard grabbed my arm, his steel gauntlet digging painfully into my bicep, and hauled me violently out of the flooded cell.
The ascent was a waking nightmare.
The spiral stairs were steep and slick. Klaus couldn't walk. His muscles, starved of blood and smothered by the collar, refused to hold him. The guards dragged him up the jagged stone steps by the chain attached to his neck. I heard the sickening thud of his knees and shoulders hitting the unhewn rock, felt the sharp, brutal flashes of physical agony tearing through our bond with every impact.
I am fine, he pushed the thought toward me, a weak, trembling lie meant to soothe my screaming panic. Do not fight them.
I will kill them, I thought back, the dark, stagnant magic inside my chest boiling with a murderous, white-hot fury. I will sing until their bones turn to dust.
No. Save it.
We climbed for what felt like hours. My bare feet bled, cut by the sharp stones, the crimson blood washing away in the damp trail we left behind. My lungs burned, my legs trembling so violently I thought they would snap.
Finally, the heavy, crushing dampness of the dungeon began to recede, replaced by the stagnant, coppery air of the Citadel’s upper levels.
We were dragged down the long, polished black marble corridor. The courtiers were gone. The halls were empty, silent, and waiting.
The massive obsidian doors of the Throne Room loomed ahead.
The guards stopped. They hauled Klaus up roughly, propping his heavy, ruined body against the marble wall. He coughed, a wet, rattling sound, spitting a mouthful of black, cursed sludge onto the pristine floor. His sapphire eyes were half-closed, his head hanging, but his mind was razor-sharp, focused entirely on me through the tether.
Whatever he asks of you, Klaus thought. His mental voice was suddenly clear and resonant, carrying the absolute, unyielding authority of the Grand Admiral. Do it. If he demands my life for yours, you take the blade, Nerissa. Do you understand me?
I stared at him, my heart fracturing in my chest.
I am not leaving you, I replied fiercely, shaking my head.
You are the Queen of the Sea, he countered, the love in his tone so vast it crushed the breath out of my lungs. Act like it.
The massive obsidian doors groaned open.
The jaundiced light from the bronze chandeliers spilled into the dark corridor, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the stale air.
"Enter," Thorne commanded from the shadows of the hall.
The guards shoved us forward.
We walked into the Throne Room, a broken, bleeding pair stepping straight into the center of the Emperor’s web. The final game was about to begin. And as I felt the terrifying weight of the Emperor's gaze lock onto us, I knew that whatever choice he placed in my hands, I was going to use it to rip his empire apart.