Chapter 17: Bitter Devotion - Hunger & Harmony

Wasn’t the necklace left in the ruin?

My hand flies up to touch the guitar pick under the thin fabric of a gown. It hums against my sternum, and as I roll it between my fingers, the wounds on my palm are gone.

Resonant.

The Vox Crown whispers between the ringing in my ears. As I slowly pry my eyes open, it isn’t the main hall’s destruction greeting me. I don’t recognize the bedroom I lie in. It’s significantly large, and the mattress under me is soft.

When I attempt to get a better look, a crack of pain flattens me again. I hiss quietly, my head throbbing and entire body quivering in pain.

“Shit . . .” I whisper, feet writhing under heavy blankets as I roll back and forth.

With every long exhale, the ache dulls. It’s enough to try and form a coherent thought. I’m still not piecing together all that happened.

“I tried my best,” a voice murmurs from my right.

My eyes snap open, and I manage to force myself up. There, Selene sits in a velvet chair pulled up to the bedside. A warm glow from the adjacent fireplace cradles her bare face and neatly tucked hair.

Wait. The fire is burning orange, not blue. Wasn’t every other flame here distinctly cold?

She raises her hand to me.

“Here. For any lasting pain.”

I stare down at the vial in her palm. It reflects juniper, though dark as night, when I gingerly take it from her.

“Um . . .” I hold what I assume is medicine in my lap, giving her a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

Her only response is a wordless stare. Like she’s trying to crack a code, and the answer is in my expression. When I awkwardly glance back down at the small vial, she clears her throat.

“Apologies.”

“Don’t be,” I say before I mumble. “What’s . . .been going on?”

A flurry of emotions passes over her face. She settles on a neutral frown, and I wince when she speaks.

“I won’t bullshit you,” she says. “Your heart is good. Even when I knew something was different, I never sensed malice.”

I swallow hard.

“But . . .”

Am I bad?

In the quiet of this room, I can’t bring myself to ask.

Her blue eyes soften, and it’s painfully obvious she doesn’t want to be the bearer of this message.

“I know your intentions are good.” She leans in to place a hand over mine. “But the road ahead is fraught. Everyone was witness to your blood changing everything,” she says, voice low like she’s afraid to say it. “They call you Dissonant.”

My brows furrow, and I open my mouth to retort.

Only, another bolt of pain has me reeling. Selene takes and opens the vial for me, gently pressing it to my mouth.

“Drink. You will need your strength.”

Feverish minutes pass. Selene’s hand stays on my forearm, though her words are too muffled to make sense of them. I faintly register the click of a door. Relief only comes when another hand joins hers, and I gasp for air.

“Oh, sweet girl . . .”

Every sound has been uncomfortably piercing since I’ve woken up, but not his voice. Niko’s gentle murmuring is a balm of honey and heart, and it’s a sharp contrast from how terrified his eyes are when I meet them.

This should be different.

Resonant.

“Careful,” Selene says, and I whimper when she eases his hand off ‌me. “We still don’t . . .”

I jolt in agony; the tinnitus returns with a vengeance when we’re no longer skin-to-skin.

“We can’t leave her like this,” he says, and my body relaxes limp against the bed when his fingers smooth over my wrist again. “Give it time.”

“But—”

“The Court can wait.”

Every breath is a struggle, but when I feel him, the pain vanishes. I’m too worn out to wonder why.

Selene lowers her head. I want to reassure her, to tell her I’ll try to do better, but at some point, my heavy eyelids win. When I gather the strength to open them again, she’s nowhere to be found. Niko has taken her spot next to me. I hate the contour of apprehension on his face.

My limbs are lighter now, so I shift under the blanket to curl towards him. The saddest smile ghosts over his lips.

“How do you feel?” he asks, and I find the energy to half-smile back.

“I don’t know.”

“Mm.” He hums thoughtfully, his thumb stroking my wrist. “I can hardly blame you.”

Fire crackles beside us, and its strange warmth pulls my attention again. Despite the million questions I could ask, it confuses me the most. When I glance over the room, he speaks.

“Sancte Noctis has changed.”

I take in every detail. Color. Warmth. Flowers that burst with sweetness and genuine life. This room alone, as expansive as it is, teems with an energy I haven’t felt since arriving. Ivy vines make a home in each corner, and firelight casts graceful shadows along vibrant tapestries.

“It’s alive,” I say, unable to believe it. “Like . . .Like when the music played, but . . .”

“Permanent.”

My lips part in awe. Permanent change. With my blood as the catalyst?

“Wh . . .”

What? Why? I can’t decide which is the better question. Or if I even dare to ask. When I find Niko’s gaze again, only one thing clouds his burgundy irises.

Fear.

Just like our first kiss. The same hesitance in his tense jaw, and the same torn expression of worry and want. I strike terror into his eyes. How can I blame him? Maybe I can’t name it yet, but I've done something irreversible.

A wave of nausea rolls over me. The burden I tried so hard to push away . . .

This can’t be happening. My gaze darts around the room again, and suddenly, I wish for the cold carcass of Sancte Noctis to come back. Each crackle of amber flame feels like a taunt.

“You should eat,” he says. “At least drink something.”

He’s always so earnest. How can he keep up his act when I’ve clearly screwed everything up?

Everything was broadcast, too. The whole world is more up-to-date with what happened than I am. Holy shit. My heart hammers in my chest, and I instinctively grab Niko’s hand.

“Hey,” he whispers, clasping his other hand over mine. “Do not panic.”

“How . . .” I rasp out. “How could I not?”

“I’ll figure this out,” he says, but I shake my head.

“What have I done?” I whisper, body trembling again. “What have I done?”

Before he can answer, a sharp rap at the door cuts through my anguish.

“Not now⁠—”

Ezren pokes his head into the room without Niko’s permission. His face falls when he sees me, and he glances between us both.

“May I come in?” he asks, speaking only to me.

“Ez . . .” Niko mumbles, but I nod.

After gently closing the door behind him, Ezren approaches. His hair is hidden under a black beanie, and this is the first time I’ve seen him in a casual shirt and jeans since Halcyon Fields. Each step towards us is more hesitant than the last. I want the cocky golden retriever back. When will he stop looking at me like I’m glass?

“Cadie . . .” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad you’re finally up.”

“Ah . . .” I scoot away from Niko, easing into the feeling of distance between us. It’s almost unbearable. “Yeah.”

When I rasp out a cough, he jumps a mile high.

“I’m okay,” I tell him, even if I can’t believe my own words. “It’s okay, um . . .”

“I was only allowed to visit if I passed on a message,” Ezren says after the silence lulls.

“From who?” Niko asks, tone like venom.

“The Midnight Court,” he says, eyes dropping to the floor. “Archduchess Imara, of course, but all of them, uh . . .”

If possible, my stomach sours further.

“What is their message?” I ask.

Ezren scuffs his shoe on the rug before he finally says it.

“An official assembly has been called.”

“I hardly have time for⁠—”

“With Cadence,” Ezren says, cutting Niko off.

Not surprising. Also not any easier to hear out loud.

“No.” Niko stands, and Ezren takes a half step back. “You tell my aunt and her caustic underlings we haven’t the time of night for their politics.”

My hands bunch up the blanket.

“They said it wasn’t your decision to deny,” Ezren whispers, and Niko’s shoulders tense.

“I am the reigning king. It will always be my decision.”

“I’m going.”

They both pause, an equal amount of confusion on their faces as they look at me. I ease myself upright again and hold steady. Pain echoes in my bones, but I’m trying to push past it.

Quickly fixing his gawk, Niko turns and sits beside me again.

“No.” He tries to grasp my arm again. “You have no clue what you’re up against.”

“Well . . .” I slip past his hands and hoist myself up. “Given you haven’t explained anything, maybe they will.”

“What—”

Niko stares in disbelief as I get to my feet, shaky but at least standing on my own. A gasp rips up Ezren’s throat before he whips around.

“C-Cadence,” Niko says, his eyes wavering from my determined frown.

When I follow his gaze, I realize whatever nightgown I ended up in isn’t hiding much. Without the blanket, my whole body shimmers under translucent fabric, including Niko’s necklace prominent between my breasts. There’s not a single other bit of clothing, not even panties.

And this foolish king is looking right at me.

“Don’t look!” I exclaim, arms flailing both at him and in an attempt to cover myself.

“I’m sorry!” he says, stumbling back in defense.

“I will let them know you’re getting ready . . .” Ezren whispers frantically, his footsteps scurrying towards the door that slams shut a moment later.

Red blazes across my face and neck, and I continue pouting even when Niko turns around. My ragged breathing fills the silence, only joined by his soft words a full minute later.

“Do you need help getting ready?”

“No!” I huff, turning to look for the bathroom or at least my suitcases. “You’ve helped enough.”

“I wasn’t suggesting myself,” he says. “Selene dressed and took care of you all morning.”

A small scoff escapes my lips.

“Will she tell me what’s going on?” I ask.

His sigh is small, but I feel the weight of it. As if I wouldn’t ask these questions. It’s almost insulting how cagey he’s being.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. There’s just . . .so much to explain. Delicate details and intricate history.”

My arms cross over my chest.

“Tell me this, then.” I narrow my eyes at his back. “Is there a way to reverse whatever happened?”

His shoulders slump, and the room feels like it’s spinning again.

“No.”

It’s a gut-punch, but my expectations can’t shatter any further, right?

Flames curl higher within the stone hearth when I turn. Even the marble is alive, with elegant swirls and floral details carved into the mantel. It shouldn’t be, though. Nothing should be like this.

While it’s still hazy, I lay out the pieces of last night in my mind. His song. My blood. The pressure in my skull and the light pouring into the concert hall.

I glance over at him again. He stands there, still as stone, and it’s hard to believe this was the man who defied his own kingdom.

“Why?”

He tilts his head, like he wants to look back at me. I think better of my question and turn my back to him.

“Never mind,” I say. “I’m going to shower.”

He remains silent as I try the door to my left. Thankfully, it’s the bathroom, so I quickly shut myself in.

“Oh, thank god.”

I fervently bless whatever angel set up a refreshment tray at the vanity. This bathroom is so large, the first part is only a walk-in closet of storage, mirrors, and seating. The hangers and shelves are notably empty. Not that I have a single care as I head straight for the snacks and glass carafe filled with water.

After knocking back a few cups of glorious nourishment, I release a breath and sink into the chair.

The plush upholstery is comfortable. I’m having a hard time enjoying it. This nightgown not only leaves zero room for imagination, but the material is so thin that I might as well be freezing in the nude. My next mission is to find my suitcases.

Except the same burning thirst creeps back up my throat. I frown at my reflection, as if the mirror has any better idea than me. Maybe I passed out longer than I thought? I could barely stand not that long ago, after all.

I pour myself a couple more glasses. Except the more I gulp down, the drier my throat feels. My hands fly up to my neck, and I swallow hard. This is so uncomfortable. Foreign.

“N . . .” I choke on Niko’s name, and I knock the vanity chair back as I stand.

Stumbling to the door, I rip it open, hoping he didn’t go too far.

Only to rush straight into his back.

“Please,” I rasp out, and I sink into his embrace when he turns.

“I’m here,” he says, lips already against my hair and arms holding me up securely. “I’ve got you, Cadence.”

The tremors subside as he holds me. I catch my breath against his chest, his familiar cologne soothing my heart rate. Even the thirst falls away like a tide.

Despite my muscles unwinding, doubt creeps into my thoughts. What is happening to me? I can’t find any shame as my exposed body presses against his. My fingers curl into his black shirt, and I grit my teeth.

“Why is this happening?”

He hesitates. I pull back enough to look up at him, voice quivering.

“Tell me,” I whisper. “Now.”

When his eyes search mine, I pull him harder against me. The last thing I want is to plead.

“Don’t leave me in the dark.”

His hands soften against my back. Fear returns to his gaze. He wants to let go.

“These feelings aren’t your own,” he says slowly, quietly. “They are mine.”

“Yours?”

“Mine.”

I stare in silent disbelief.

“What . . . does that mean?”

It’s empty where his hands were. He rocks backward, not outwardly escaping my arms, but not staying, either.

“I know you won’t like this answer.”

“Does that even matter?” I whisper, and he averts his face.

“You are a Dissonant, Cadence.”

My stomach lurches. Dissonant sounds wrong. Bad. Even the way his lips curl around the word is like a curse, a plague on my name.

Is this why he pulls away? Because I’m unworthy of him? Somehow, I can’t fully believe that.

I gasp when a familiar warmth presses into my skin, and I grab the necklace through the nightgown. It’s not painful, but it’s warm. A warning.

His eyes fix on the pendant, and I follow his thoughts. The night he gave it to me feels lifetimes ago. It was the first time we kissed. It was the beginning of the end.

My tongue instinctively runs over my lips. It breaks his concentration, and his eyes find my mouth.

“Dissonants shouldn’t exist,” he continues, tone so far away, like he can’t accept his own words. “You hail from a bloodline of weapons.”

“How could I⁠—”

“Weapons against my lineage. A Dissonant can bond with a pureblood vampire.” His eyes drag up to mine, and his intensity wavers. He can barely whisper. “This bond was made to destroy.”

I swiftly step back.

“No.”

My head shakes, and I curl my arms around myself. The temperature plummets around us, and the cloying perfume of snapdragons sickens my churning stomach. He lets me back away. Suddenly, Selene’s hesitance makes so much sense. Am I a weapon? Am I a threat?

“No, I . . . would never destroy you. What . . .What are you saying?”

“Focus on the thirst, Cadence. Capture the thoughts, feelings, and memories that aren’t yours.”

Even as he says it, it comes into focus. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping it’ll stay away. Crystallizing behind my eyelids, everything he’s saying expands like a bursting bubble in my mind.

Even as I desperately push it back, the thirst crawls back into my body, taking Niko’s shape and crowding into my bones. I shriek and stumble back into the wall, unable to tell where I begin and Niko ends.

Hunger. It grips me, and I keel over to shield myself. Something so inviting, so irresistible pulls me to it, but I can’t. I can’t.

Niko can’t.

He couldn’t feed. When I first stood before him, nothing else mattered. Hunger became frenzy, and the line between desire and madness blurred. He had to get away, but he couldn’t stay away. Each time blood was forced onto his lips, the need for me grew until the tightrope snapped.

The night I discovered him under moonlight and soft bodies.

The moment I walked away from him and his burdens.

The defiance sparked from decades of silent suffering.

My heart pangs, and I let my thrashing give way to silence. I can feel it. Not quite hear it so much as live these memories like they are my own.

I open my eyes.

The same man stands before me, but I know him so much better. How long he suffered, not just when I walked into his life, but every scar on his heart.

His eyes shine crimson in the dim light of this closet. The space is too small for the two of us. The whole world feels claustrophobic with him crowding my psyche.

“You feel it, too?”

He nods. My knees buckle.

A Dissonant. I’m a Dissonant. Even to myself, it feels wrong. Like an outfit made three sizes too small.

“What do we do?” I ask.

When his gaze hardens, what little hope I have shatters.

Before despair suffocates me, his hand extends ‌to me. I stare at his fingers, those that have intertwined with mine so many times. A hand that now feels like my own as I tentatively take it.

“We answer the Court’s call.”