Chapter 20 Invitation
I spent hours just staring at it. Klaus had left early, before the smog cleared, leaving me alone with the fire and the shell. I touched the iridescent ridges, letting the phantom cold of the trench seep into my fingertips. If I pressed my ear to it, I could hear the deep sound of the ocean floor. It was the only sound in this stone box that didn't want to kill me.
The tower felt tighter today. The air was heavy, charged with a static electricity that made the hair on my arms stand up. Even Rook hadn’t come out of his tunnel. The silence was absolute.
Until the bells started ringing.
They weren't the sweet, chiming bells of a chapel. They were deep, dissonant iron gongs that shook the dust from the rafters.
The lock on the door clicked.
I stood up, putting the shell down. I smoothed the skirts of the grey dress I had been wearing for two days.
Klaus walked in.
He looked worse than yesterday. The black veins on his neck, usually hidden by the collar of his coat, were creeping higher, visible just above the fabric. His skin was the color of old parchment. But it was his eyes that scared me. They were burning with a manic, feverish intensity.
He held a black envelope in his hand. The wax seal was red.
"What is that?" I asked, backing up until my legs hit the cot.
He didn't answer. He walked to the desk and threw the envelope down. It landed next to the shell with a heavy, final sound.
"An invitation," he said. His voice was rough, scraping against the silence.
"To what?"
"The Blood Moon Ball."
I looked at the envelope. I didn't want to touch it. It radiated a malevolent heat.
"I don't dance," I whispered.
"It’s not a dance, Nerissa," Klaus said, turning to look at me. "It’s a hunt."
He began to pace the small room, his boots clicking sharply on the stone. He looked like a caged tiger.
"The Blood Moon is the high holy night of the Empire," he explained, speaking fast. "It marks the peak of the lunar cycle. The magic in the blood is strongest. The Emperor opens the court. The High Lords gather. And they... feed."
My stomach turned over. "They hunt humans?"
"They hunt anything with a pulse," Klaus said grimly. "Usually, they bring in criminals. Deserters. Or they open the gates to the lower city and let the court loose on the slums."
He stopped pacing and looked at me.
"But this year," he said softly, "the Emperor wants a different kind of entertainment. He wants to show off his new acquisition."
"Me," I said. The word tasted like ash.
"You," he confirmed. "He wants you to stand on the dais next to the throne. He wants you to sing while they feed. He wants you to provide the soundtrack for the slaughter."
I shook my head, backing away until I hit the wall. "No. I won't. I can't watch that."
"If you refuse," Klaus said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, "he will throw you into the crowd. And they won't just listen to you, Nerissa. They will tear you apart to see what makes the sound."
He reached out and grabbed my shoulders. His grip was hard, desperate.
"This is the test," he hissed. "The real test. General Draven was just a warm-up. This is the entire court. The Dukes, the Duchesses, the ancient ones who haven't left their crypts in centuries. They are coming to see if the Sapphire Witch is real, or if she is just a fraud."
"I can't do it," I choked out, tears pricking my eyes. "I can't sing for them while they eat people."
"You have to," Klaus said. He shook me once, hard. "Because if you don't, you end up in the garden. Do you remember the garden? Do you remember the white trees?"
The image of the fused ribs and the path of teeth flashed through my mind. I gagged.
"Yes," I whispered.
"Good," Klaus said. "Hold onto that fear. Use it. Because tonight, fear is the only thing that will keep you standing."
A heavy knock echoed on the main door.
Klaus stiffened. He released my shoulders and stepped back, smoothing his coat, instantly transforming from the desperate guardian back into the cold Lord Falkenstein.
"Enter," he commanded.
The door opened.
A pair of human servants with dead eyes walked in carrying a large, rectangular box wrapped in silver paper. They set it on the table and bowed, scrambling out backward as if afraid Klaus might bite them.
"What is this?" I asked, staring at the silver box. It looked festive. It looked like a lie.
"The Wardrobe Committee," Klaus said, eyeing the box with suspicion. "Lady Vespera is the Chairwoman. She is responsible for outfitting the 'special guests' of the Emperor."
"Vespera sent me a dress?" I felt a cold chill slide down my spine.
"The Emperor ordered it," Klaus corrected. "He wants you to look the part. A Princess of the Deep. A jewel in his crown."
He walked over to the box. He cut the ribbon with a flick of his wrist.
"Open it," he told me.
I walked forward slowly. The silver paper reflected the firelight, shimmering. It looked expensive.
I lifted the lid.
The smell hit me first.
It wasn't the scent of lavender or rose. It was the smell of damp wool, mildew, and stale seawater.
I looked inside.
There was no silk. No velvet. No emerald green or sapphire blue.
Lying on a bed of black tissue paper was a heap of grey rags.
It was a dress, technically. But it was made of coarse, scratching burlap. The hem was shredded, intentionally torn to look jagged. Holes had been cut into the bodice, not in an artistic way, but in a way that would expose skin in humiliating patches.
And sewn into the fabric, glinting in the light, were pieces of fishing net. Old, knotted, dirty rope.
Resting on top of the pile was a card. The handwriting was elegant, swirling script.
For the little fish. Dress for your station. The gutter suits you. — V.
I stared at it.
My hands started to shake. Not from fear this time, but from a hot, blinding humiliation.
She didn't just want to kill me. She wanted to shame me. She wanted me to walk into the ballroom, in front of the entire court, looking like a beggar. Like a piece of trash that had washed up on the shore.
"She wants me to be a joke," I whispered.
Klaus didn't speak.
He reached into the box. He picked up the dress.
He held it up. It hung from his hands like a dead thing. The fishing net clattered against the stone floor. It was ugly. It was cruel. It was a masterpiece of malice.
"She knows I can't refuse it," I realized, looking at Klaus. "If the Committee sends it, and I don't wear it, I'm insulting the Emperor's hospitality. I'm refusing a gift."
"Yes," Klaus said quietly. "She has trapped you. If you wear it, you are a laughingstock. You are weak. The court will eat you alive before the music even starts. If you refuse it, you are defiant. And the Emperor executes defiance."
He looked at the rags in his hands. His face was unreadable, mask-like.
"So I have to wear it," I said, my voice breaking. "I have to walk out there looking like... like this."
I grabbed the rough fabric. It scratched my skin. It smelled of rot.
"I can't," I sobbed, dropping the fabric. "Klaus, please. I can't."
Klaus looked at me. He saw the tears I was trying to hold back. He saw the shame burning my cheeks.
Slowly, his hands tightened on the dress.
The sound was loud in the small room.
He tore the bodice in half.
Then he ripped the skirt. He tore the fishing net off with a violent jerk that snapped the heavy ropes.
"Klaus!" I gasped. "What are you doing? The Emperor—"
"The Emperor wants a Queen," Klaus snarled.
He threw the shredded remains of the dress into the fireplace.
The burlap caught fire instantly. The fishing net sizzled and popped, sending black smoke curling up the chimney. We watched as Vespera’s insult turned into ash.
"You burned it," I whispered, horrified. "Now I have nothing. The ball is tonight. I have nothing to wear."
"You are not wearing trash," Klaus said. His voice was low, vibrating with a cold, terrifying rage. "I will not have you parade in front of my peers looking like a victim. You are under my protection. And my protection does not look like this."
He kicked the silver box across the room. It smashed against the wall, crumpling.
"But what do I do?" I asked, panic rising in my chest. "I can't go naked. I can't go in this grey nightgown."
Klaus turned to me. The firelight behind him cast him in silhouette, making him look larger, darker.
"Vespera thinks she has played a checkmate," he said. "She thinks that by destroying your image, she destroys your power. She forgets one thing."
"What?"
"She forgets who holds the keys to the Vault."
He walked over to the desk and grabbed the ring of iron keys. He selected a small, intricate key made of black iron.
"Rook!" he roared.
The goblin tumbled out of the service tunnel so fast he tripped over his own feet. "Yes! Yes, Lord! I didn't touch the dress! I swear!"
"Go to the Deep Vault," Klaus ordered. "Level four. Row seven. Bring me the chest with the sea-glass seal."
Rook’s jaw dropped. His eyes bugged out.
"The... the sea-glass seal?" Rook stammered. "But Lord... that chest... it hasn't been opened since the First Era. It is forbidden. It is—"
"Bring it," Klaus cut him off. "Now. Or I will use you as kindling."
Rook squeaked and vanished back into the tunnel, scrambling like a rat on fire.
Klaus turned back to me. He was breathing hard, the black veins on his neck pulsing.
"What is in the chest?" I asked.
"Something Vespera doesn't know exists," Klaus said. "Something that was old before she was even born."
He walked over to me. He reached out and touched my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear.
"She wanted you to look like a beggar," he whispered, his eyes burning with blue fire. "So we will make you look like a god."
"But the Emperor..."
"The Emperor wants to be entertained," Klaus said. "He wants awe. We will give him awe."
He looked at the fire, watching the last of the burlap turn to black dust.
"Tonight," he vowed, "you will not walk into that hall as a prisoner. You will walk in as a tidal wave. And Vespera will drown in it."
He took my hand. His grip was crushing, painful, but I didn't pull away.
"Trust me," he said.
I looked at him. I looked at the man who was defying his own court, risking his own standing, just to save my pride.
"I trust you," I whispered.