Chapter 4 Citadel of Night
The smell of the ocean vanished first.
It was replaced by something heavy.
I was blindfolded when they took me off the ship. My hands were bound in front of me with heavy iron cuffs that chafed my wrists, the cold metal biting into my skin. I stumbled down the gangplank, my bare feet scraping against rough wood, then cobblestones.
"Step up," a rough voice barked.
I was shoved forward. I hit my shin against a metal step and gasped, but strong hands hauled me up before I could fall. I heard the clang of a barred door slamming shut, followed by the heavy slide of a lock.
I reached up and tore the blindfold off.
I wasn't in a carriage. I was in a cage.
It was an iron-barred box mounted on wheels, pulled by four massive, skeletal horses that breathed grey vapor into the chill air. I gripped the bars, looking out.
We were moving through a city that shouldn't exist.
The Citadel was carved directly into the side of a massive, jagged cliff face. It was a vertical nightmare of obsidian and glass, stretching up toward a sky that was choked with unnatural clouds. Massive machines lined the cliff tops, spewing thick smog that blocked out the sun, creating an eternal, artificial twilight.
Lanterns glowing with blue witch-fire lined the streets, casting long, twisted shadows.
"Sit down, creature," a guard spat, banging the hilt of his sword against the bars.
I retreated to the center of the cage, pulling Klaus's coat tighter around me. I felt like an animal. A prize heifer being taken to the slaughterhouse.
The streets were crowded. Vampires. Thousands of them.
They didn't look like the monsters in stories. They looked like aristocrats. They wore velvets and silks in deep purples and blacks. They walked with elegant, predatory grace. But when the cage rolled past, the façade slipped.
They stopped. They stared.
I saw hunger in a thousand pairs of red eyes. I saw lips peel back to reveal fangs. They could smell me. They could smell the potent, throbbing magic in my veins. To them, I wasn't a woman. I was a walking bottle of the finest wine they had never tasted.
A low hiss started in the crowd, a collective sound of desire that made my skin crawl. Someone threw a rose at the cage. It hit the bars and fell apart, the petals looking like blood drops on the floor.
"Back!"
The command cut through the murmurs of the crowd.
I looked to my left. Riding beside the cage on a stallion as black as a nightmare was Klaus.
He didn't look at the crowd. He sat tall in the saddle, staring straight ahead, his profile sharp and unyielding as cut flint. He had changed into a formal military uniform. Black with silver epaulettes, a high collar, and a sword strapped to his hip.
He looked terrifying. He looked magnificent.
A vampire from the crowd, a young male with wild eyes lunged toward the cage, his hand reaching through the bars to grab my hair.
"Just a taste!" he shrieked.
I scrambled back, pressing myself against the far side of the cage.
Klaus didn't even break stride. In a blur of motion, he drew a riding crop from his belt and lashed out.
The sound was sickeningly loud. The young vampire screamed, clutching a hand that was now broken and mangled. He fell back into the crowd.
Klaus didn't stop. He didn't look down. He just adjusted his grip on the reins, his face a mask of bored indifference.
"Maintain the surrounding," he ordered the guards flanking us. "If anyone touches the cage again, take their hand. If they try twice, take their head."
The crowd parted. They feared him. I could see it in the way they shrank back, their hunger replaced by wary respect. He was the predator that even the other predators were afraid of.
I looked at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. He turned his head slightly. His sapphire eyes met mine through the iron bars. There was no comfort in them, but there was a message.
Stay quiet. Stay still.
We wound our way up the winding streets, higher and higher, until we reached the massive gates of the Palace.
It was a fortress of black glass, towering over the city like a tombstone. The gates groaned open, and the cage rolled into a courtyard filled with statues of weeping angels.
"Get her out," Klaus commanded, dismounting in one fluid motion.
The guards unlocked the cage. They grabbed my arms, hauling me out. I stumbled, my legs still weak, but they didn't give me time to recover. They dragged me across the courtyard, my feet bleeding on the sharp stones.
Klaus walked ahead of us, his cape billowing behind him. He didn't look back to see if I was keeping up. He knew I had no choice.
We entered the Throne Room.
It was cavernous. The ceiling was lost in shadows, and the walls were lined with tapestries depicting wars I didn't recognize. The air smelled of crushed roses and iron.
Hundreds of nobles stood in silence, forming a gauntlet that led to the raised dais at the far end.
At the top of the stairs sat the Emperor.
He was ancient. His skin was so pale it was translucent; I could see the blue veins pulsing beneath the surface like worms. He wore robes of white silk that looked like burial shrouds. He didn't look strong. He looked fragile, like a dried leaf.
But the aura of power radiating from him was suffocating. It pressed down on my shoulders, making it hard to breathe.
The guards threw me to the floor at the foot of the stairs. The stone was ice cold.
"The Siren," the Emperor whispered. His voice was like dry paper rubbing together, rasping and thin. "Finally."
I pushed myself up onto my knees, clutching the coat. I refused to cower. I was Nerissa Thalassyne. I was the daughter of the tide.
"Look at me," the Emperor commanded.
I looked up. His eyes were milky white, blind-looking, but I knew he could see everything.
"They say your voice can sink fleets," the Emperor rasped. "They say you can enslave the mind with a hum."
He leaned forward, his bones creaking.
"Sing for us."
The court went deadly silent. I could feel Vespera’s eyes burning into my back. I could feel Klaus standing somewhere to my right, still as a statue.
I swallowed. My throat felt like it was full of glass shards.
"No," I said.
The word echoed in the vast hall. A collective gasp rippled through the nobles. No one said 'no' to the Emperor.
The Emperor didn't get angry. He just smiled, revealing teeth that were filed into needle points.
"No?" he repeated softly. "You are a spoil of war, little fish. You do not have the right to refuse."
"I sing for the ocean," I said, my voice trembling but loud. "I do not sing for dust and bones."
The Emperor’s smile vanished.
"Insolent," he hissed. "Perhaps we have no need for the song. Perhaps we only need the blood."
He flicked a bony hand.
A guard stepped forward, drawing a curved, serrated knife.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced my chest. I scrambled back, but two guards seized my arms, pinning me to the floor.
"If she will not sing," the Emperor said, sounding bored, "cut out her tongue. It will make the extraction of her blood much quieter."
The guard with the knife knelt beside me. He grabbed my jaw, his fingers digging into my cheeks, forcing my mouth open.
I stared at the blade. It was rusted. Dirty.
I tried to scream, but his grip was iron. I looked frantically to the side.
Klaus.
He was standing by a pillar, his arms crossed, watching. His face was unreadable. Was he going to let this happen? Was he just going to watch them mutilate me?
Please. I begged him with my eyes. Please.
The knife touched my lip. The cold steel made me flinch.
"Stop."
The word was spoken softly, but it carried more weight than a shout.
Klaus stepped out of the shadows. He walked toward the center of the room, his boots clicking on the stone.
"Your Eminence," he said, bowing low, but keeping his eyes on the Emperor. "With all due respect... that is a waste."
The Emperor signaled the guard to pause. The blade hovered an inch from my mouth.
"Lord Falkenstein," the Emperor said. "You interrupt my justice?"
"I interrupt a mistake," Klaus said smoothly. He walked over to where I was pinned. He looked down at me, his expression cold, clinical. "Fear spoils the vintage, Your Eminence. If you torture her, her blood turns sour with adrenaline. It becomes bitter. Useless."
"She is defiant," the Emperor countered. "She needs to be broken."
"Then let me break her."
The room went so quiet I could hear the torches sputtering on the walls.
Klaus crouched down. He grabbed a handful of my hair hard. I gasped as he yanked my head back, forcing me to look up at him.
It hurt. Tears pricked my eyes. But then I saw it.
His sapphire eyes weren't cold. They were frantic. He was terrified.
Play along, his eyes screamed. Trust me.
"She is wild," Klaus said to the room, his voice dripping with disdain. "She is a creature of the deep, unused to the leash. Cutting her tongue is crude. It is... beneath us."
He let go of my hair and stood up, turning to face the Emperor.
"Give her to me," Klaus proposed. "Let me take her to the West Tower. I will train her. I will strip the defiance out of her layer by layer. And when I am done... she will not just sing. She will beg to sing for you."
The Emperor sat back, tapping a long fingernail against the arm of his throne. He studied Klaus for a long, agonizing minute.
"You claim her for yourself, Peregrine?" the Emperor asked, suspicion lacing his tone. "Or are you soft for the pretty face?"
Klaus laughed. It was a dark, cruel sound that sent a chill down my spine.
"Soft?" Klaus scoffed. "I am thinking of the utility. A Siren who sings willingly is a weapon of mass destruction. A mute Siren is just... lunch."
The Emperor chuckled. A dry, rattling sound.
"Very well," the Emperor decided. "Take her. Train her."
I slumped in relief, the guard releasing my arms.
"But," the Emperor added, raising a finger. "I am not a patient man."
He pointed at Klaus.
"You have one week. Seven days. If she is not singing my praises by the next Blood Moon... I will give her to Lady Vespera."
I looked over at Vespera. She was standing near the front, smiling. She ran a finger across her throat.
"I have a jar on my mantle that is just the right size for a tongue," Vespera called out sweetly.
Klaus didn't look at her. He reached down and hauled me to my feet. His grip on my arm was bruising, possessive.
"One week is all I need," Klaus said.
He pulled me away, dragging me back down the aisle, away from the throne, away from the knife.
I stumbled after him, my legs shaking so hard I could barely walk. I looked up at his profile. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle was jumping in his cheek.
He had saved me.
He had hurt me, humiliated me, and treated me like an object. But he had saved me.
As we exited the heavy doors of the Throne Room and into the corridor, he didn't slow down. He marched me toward the tower stairs.
"You," he hissed under his breath, not looking at me, "are the most difficult creature I have ever had the misfortune of keeping alive."
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He stopped. He turned on his heel, pinning me against the cold stone wall of the corridor. His hand came up to cup my throat not to choke, but to hold. His thumb brushed over my pulse, checking the rhythm.
"Don't thank me," he said, his blue eyes dark and stormy. "I just bought you seven days of hell. And if you don't do exactly what I say... I won't be able to stop them next time."
He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine for a brief, confusing second.
"Now walk," he ordered, pulling away and turning his back to me. "We have work to do."
I followed him into the shadows, the memory of the rusty knife still cold against my lips.