Chapter 154 Rebel Songs
I shifted the tempo. I dragged out the minor chords and snapped the high notes into sharp, staccato breaks. I was using a naval cipher I had found in Klaus’s oldest journals—a rhythmic code used by the First Fleet centuries ago to pass orders across vast, foggy distances without the enemy understanding.
I kept my face perfectly serene, singing the tragic lyrics of the drowned men, while my eyes swept the faces in the gallery.
I wasn't singing for the Emperor. I was singing for the ghosts in his court.
Not every vampire in the Citadel worshipped the tyrant. There were ancient bloodlines that despised his paranoia, lords who had lost their sires and their wealth to his endless purges. They were forced to smile and drink his wine, hiding their hatred behind masks of aristocratic boredom.
My eyes found Lord Valerius.
He stood near a massive marble pillar on the left side of the hall. He was a tall, severely scarred vampire whose family had been decimated by the Emperor sixty years ago. He wore a dark grey doublet, holding a crystal flute of blood in his left hand.
Valerius was staring directly at me. As I hit the descending scale—the code for the unguarded armory—his right index finger tapped against his thigh in perfect, rhythmic synchronization with my altered tempo.
He understood. He recognized the old fleet cipher. The message was received.
I shifted my gaze seamlessly, letting the song swell into a dramatic, soaring crescendo. I scanned the right side of the hall and found Lady Elara. She was a quiet, unassuming widow whose husband had been executed for speaking against the crown. She stood near the heavy oak doors, her face hidden behind a dark lace veil.
I wove a new sequence into the chorus.
Through the sheer fabric of her veil, I saw Lady Elara tilt her head a fraction of an inch to the left. An acknowledgment. The rebellion was not dead. It was simply standing in the Emperor's dining hall, drinking his wine, and listening to the caged bird sing the blueprints of his downfall.
I let the final, haunting note of the lament slowly fade into the stifling heat of the room.
The silence hung in the air for a single heartbeat before the Emperor began to clap. His skeletal hands made a dry, hollow sound. The rest of the court quickly joined in, a thunderous, echoing wave of applause that grated against my ears.
"Magnificent," the Emperor praised, leaning forward on his ivory throne. "A voice fit to rule the tides. Come here, Nerissa."
Every muscle in my body locked with violent, screaming revulsion, but I forced my feet to move. I climbed the steps of the dais, stopping right beside his chair.
The Emperor reached out with a cold, bony hand. He caught my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong, and pulled me closer. He ran his other hand over the heavy emeralds resting on my chest, his long, yellowed fingernails scraping lightly against my bare skin.
It took everything I had not to drive a dining knife through his milky eyes. I kept my breathing slow and even, staring blankly out at the crowd.
"You see, my court?" the Emperor boasted, his blind gaze sweeping the hall. "Even the wildest storms can be broken to the saddle. The Siren serves the Empire."
He released my wrist, waving his hand dismissively. "Go. Mingle with the lords and ladies. Let them admire you."
I bowed my head and walked down the steps, stepping into the chaotic crush of the banquet floor.
The vampires parted for me, their red eyes tracking my every movement. Some offered mocking, shallow bows; others simply stared with open disdain. I navigated the floor with slow, measured steps, taking a crystal goblet of water from a passing servant.
I made my way toward the massive, arched windows overlooking the dark, churning ocean.
A moment later, a tall shadow fell over me.
"A truly beautiful rendition, Arch-Duchess," a deep, smooth voice murmured.
I turned. Lord Valerius stood beside me. Up close, the deep, ragged scar running across his left eye was even more pronounced. He offered a perfect, formal bow, his expression entirely neutral.
"Thank you, my lord," I replied, keeping my voice light and empty, playing the part of the vapid court pet.
Valerius looked out the window at the black water, taking a slow sip of the blood from his flute. "The old songs have a certain... weight to them. They remind me of the southern gales. My grandfather used to sail those waters before the Empire restricted the trade routes."
The dialogue was entirely organic, casual court chatter to anyone listening, but the undercurrent was sharp as a razor.
"The southern gales are exceptionally harsh this time of year, Lord Valerius," I said, looking out at the same dark horizon. I took a sip of my water, the cool liquid soothing my raw throat. "The winds can tear a ship apart if the hull is weak. It is best to secure your vessels before the new moon."
The new moon was three days away. The night we would move on the armory.
Valerius did not look at me. He kept his eyes fixed on the ocean, but the muscle in his scarred jaw tightened with cold, hard resolve.
"I completely agree, my lady," Valerius murmured smoothly. "I shall instruct my men to reinforce the hulls immediately. We cannot afford to leave anything exposed to the storm."
He offered another shallow bow, turned on his heel, and melted seamlessly back into the crowded hall, just another nobleman enjoying the Emperor's hospitality.
I stood by the window alone, the heavy emeralds dragging at my neck.
A sudden, sharp throb echoed in my chest. Down in the dark, Klaus shifted against his chains. The pain was duller now, settling into the familiar, agonizing ache of open wounds and starvation. I rested my hand flat against my sternum, right over my heart, pressing against the silent tether.
I am coming, I promised him, the vow burning bright and lethal in the frozen wasteland of my soul.