Chapter 120 Cruel Ultimatum
Hundreds of vampires stood in the gallery, forming a silent, staring ocean of dark silk, velvet, and bared fangs. The High Council, the wealthy lords, and the ladies of the court had gathered with terrifying speed. I could feel their collective gaze scraping over my skin, hungry and vicious. They did not speak, but the anticipation radiating from them was a physical, oppressive weight in the room.
"Bring the traitor to the steps," a dry, papery whisper echoed through the 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 drove his steel-gauntleted hand hard between Klaus’s shoulder blades.
Klaus stumbled forward. His bare feet dragged against the polished stone, leaving faint, damp smudges of watery silver blood. The heavy iron chains wrapped around his torso and wrists clanked with a brutal, dead weight, echoing sharply in the absolute quiet. He didn't try to catch himself. His knees hit the marble floor with a sickening crack at the base of the ivory dais.
The guards holding my arms yanked me forward, forcing me to a halt ten feet behind him. The steel of their grips bit deep into my biceps, bruising the soft flesh beneath the ruined, damp wool of my dark grey mourning dress.
I stared at Klaus’s broad, scarred back, fighting the frantic, rising tide of terror in my throat.
The heavy iron suppressor collar locked around his neck glowed with an angry, blistering heat. The ancient runes carved into the metal hissed, searing into 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 woolen blanket. It smothered his immortal strength, stripping away the magic that fortified his bones and muscles, leaving him heavy and agonizingly mortal.
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 and expanded our borders. Reduced to a shivering, chained dog on my floor."
A low murmur of agreement rippled through the gallery. I saw Lady Vespera standing near the front row, wearing a gown of rich, blood-red silk. She held a black lace fan over her mouth, but her red eyes were bright with a triumphant, malicious glee. She had delivered our secret straight to the throne.
"You have kept a secret from me, Peregrine," the Emperor continued, leaning forward. His midnight robes pooled around his skeletal frame, rustling like dead leaves. "For three hundred years, you stood by my side. You led my fleets. You commanded the absolute trust of the crown. 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 heavy 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 skeletal fingers.
Thorne stepped forward from the shadows of a massive pillar. He held up a small object for the entire 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, shuddering revulsion through the aristocratic crowd.
"He did not just harbor the weapon," the Emperor sneered, his lip curling in disgust, displaying long, yellowed fangs. "He drank from it. The Grand Admiral fed on the Siren to heal his own failing flesh. He bound his life to the parasite."
"Heresy," an older lord hissed from the gallery, his face twisting in disgust.
"Feral beast," another muttered, gripping the velvet railing.
I gritted my teeth, pulling uselessly against the guards holding my arms. "He drank it because I forced him to! He was dying! He let a beast tear him to shreds in your arena to protect the sea!"
"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, their grips tightening until my shoulders screamed.
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.
Before Klaus could connect, Thorne drove the heavy wooden shaft of his halberd directly into the center of Klaus’s chest, right over the unhealed, broken ribs.
Klaus dropped like a stone.
He hit the floor, his face smashing into the marble. Silver blood immediately began to pool beneath his split lip.
Through the bond, an explosion of dizzying, blinding agony ripped through my own chest. I gasped, my vision swimming with dark spots, the phantom pain stealing the oxygen from my lungs. The remaining guard didn't bother to hold me up; he let me fall, my hands hitting the cold floor to catch my weight.
"Fascinating," the Emperor whispered.
I looked up through the curtain of my messy dark hair. The Emperor was standing at the bottom of the dais, his blind eyes fixed on me. He wasn't angry that Klaus had attacked his guard. He was absolutely thrilled.