Chapter 121 Choose Now
"The ancient texts spoke of a two-way street of suffering," the Emperor mused, gliding slowly toward where Klaus lay bleeding on the marble. "But to see it in practice... to witness the tether reacting in real-time. It is a marvel of forbidden magic."
"Don't touch him," I croaked, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the pristine floor.
The Emperor ignored me. He stood over Klaus, nudging the Admiral's bare, scarred shoulder with the toe of his velvet slipper. Klaus groaned, shifting weakly, his strength entirely sapped by the blow and the suffocating collar.
"I have spent the morning consulting the Archives," the Emperor announced, turning his face toward the silent, staring gallery. "The lore of the First Era. I needed to understand exactly how Queen Ligeia cast the curse that turned my Grand Admiral into a sponge."
He turned back around, his blind eyes boring into my face.
"The magic is bound to his dead heart," the Emperor explained, his voice dropping to a lethal, carrying pitch. "As long as the heart remains intact within his chest, the curse holds. The ocean stays clear, and the rot fills his veins. But the tether is fraying, isn't it? The Admiral is dying."
I locked my jaw, refusing to give him a single word.
"If he dies of natural causes, or if the curse simply consumes him, the magic breaks violently," the Emperor whispered, leaning close enough that I could smell the stale mint on his breath. "The three centuries of black sludge stored in his body will detonate. It will flood back into the ocean all at once. The Sapphire Sea will boil in ink. Your home will be a dead, toxic wasteland forever."
My heart slammed against my ribs. I stared at the Emperor, the cold, hard reality of his words sinking deep into my bones.
"However," the Emperor purred, straightening up. He folded his skeletal hands together over his stomach. "There is a loophole in Ligeia’s blood-binding. A way to break the curse cleanly. To sever the tie without detonating the rot."
He pointed a long, bony finger directly at Klaus’s chest, right over the dark, necrotic veins that marked the curse.
"The heart must be destroyed," the Emperor decreed. "But it cannot be destroyed by an Imperial blade. It cannot be destroyed by a beast in an arena. It must be pierced by the hand of the bloodline that cast the curse. It must be a Siren."
The Throne Room erupted into a cacophony of gasps and excited murmurs. The vampires leaned over the velvet railings, their red eyes wide with a hungry, sadistic anticipation. They understood the game now.
I stopped breathing. The air in my lungs turned to solid ice.
"An ultimatum, my little fish," the Emperor said, stepping closer to me. "Kill the Vampire Lord. Take a blade, drive it through his heart, and break the curse forever. The rot dies with him, and your ocean is saved. Your kingdom is free."
He tilted his head, a grotesque smile stretching his grey skin.
"Or," the Emperor whispered softly, "refuse. Let him live. And you will be thrown into a cage to watch him starve into a feral beast. I will let the curse consume him naturally, and you will sit there and feel it through your precious blood-bond as your kingdom turns to ash."
The choice hung in the air, a physical, crushing weight that pressed me down toward the marble.
Save Klaus, and watch my entire world burn to cinders. Watch the ocean turn into a toxic wasteland of black sludge that would kill my people.
Or save the sea, and murder the man I loved with my own two hands.
There was no third option. The Emperor had boxed me into a corner with no exits, surrounded by a hundred armed guards and a court eager for blood.
I looked at Klaus.
He was already looking up at me. The iron collar hissed against his neck, burning his flesh, but his sapphire eyes were completely clear. The fierce, terrifying pride of the Grand Admiral had returned, overriding the physical agony.
Through the blood-bond, the sheer, devastating weight of his love poured into my mind. It wasn't a plea for his life. It was an absolute, unconditional surrender.
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, hot and sharp. My hands trembled where they rested against the cold stone floor.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't look at the face of the man who had stood between me and a two-ton beast, the man who had let his own body be torn to shreds so I wouldn't have to sing, and condemn him to death.
But as I looked at the Emperor’s smug, skeletal face, a cold, hard realization locked into place deep inside my chest.
If I chose Klaus right now, the Emperor would kill us both. He would slaughter Klaus on this floor, and lock me in the dark until the sea died. We had no weapons. We had no leverage. We were entirely at the mercy of a tyrant who had stripped us of everything.
I needed time.
I needed the Emperor to drop his guard. To do that, I had to convince the oldest, most paranoid creature in the Citadel that I was entirely, ruthlessly broken. I had to play the Emperor's game flawlessly.
I could not hesitate. I could not show mercy.
And most agonizingly of all, I could not let Klaus know I was lying. If the Emperor saw even a flicker of relief or conspiracy in Klaus’s eyes, the ruse would fail. The betrayal had to be absolute.
I closed my eyes.
I gathered every ounce of my willpower, reaching deep into my chest where the blood-bond pulsed with his warmth. I didn't sever the tether but I built a massive, impenetrable wall of freezing ice around my side of the connection. I locked my emotions, my terror, and my love behind a solid, unyielding barrier.
I felt the exact moment the wall slammed shut.
I opened my eyes.
I slowly pushed myself up from the marble floor, shaking off the hands of the elite guards. I stood entirely on my own, smoothing the ruined, blood-stained fabric of my dark grey dress.
I didn't look at Klaus. I kept my eyes fixed entirely on the Emperor’s blind, milky gaze.
"Well?" the Emperor prompted, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. "The monster, or the sea? What is your choice, little fish?"
I locked my jaw. I let the cold, hard fury in my chest bleed into my voice, making it sound entirely dead.
"I choose my Kingdom."
The words rang out across the silent Throne Room, clear and sharp as breaking glass.
A collective, shuddering breath escaped the gallery. Lady Vespera let out a short, delighted laugh, snapping her black lace fan shut. The Emperor’s smile widened into a grotesque display of yellowed fangs.
"Excellent," the Emperor whispered.