Chapter 18: Dissonant - Hunger & Harmony

The Vox Crown is quiet.

So quiet.

Life breathes within Sancte Noctis. What was austere only yesterday is now inviting. Amber flames flicker along the halls, and patches of moss squish sporadically under my boots. It’s unnerving. Unnatural. Ivy shouldn’t curl around these reverent sculptures. Flowers shouldn’t bloom in the ribs of vaulted chambers.

Robes swishing across stone join the echo of my disjointed breathing, as well as the clicks of Niko’s footsteps. We’re both shrouded in ceremonial midnight. It’s the only thing I'm thankful for.

The walls feel like eyes following our every move, and I wouldn’t make it out of my room without some protection.

Ezren passed on that Lorelai wouldn’t make it to the assembly. Something about fixing our social media disaster. Still, I wish someone else were walking me to my doom. Someone who isn’t so personally impactful to this meeting.

Niko wasn’t kidding. I could barely make it through a shower without him right at the door, and breakfast was just as painful. Whether I like it or not, this . . . bond between us is real.

I flick my gaze toward him. He’s leading the way, a good few steps ahead of me. His hair is slicked back under the bone crown, his unruly charm switched out for formality.

He cocks his head back a touch. Immediately, I find something interesting on the wall.

“We’re here.”

It’s not lost on me that no one guards these heavy doors. No matter where I go, I sense the Court’s authority. As rich mahogany parts for us, dread spills out of the room like warm candlelight, curling around our ankles.

When I steal another glance, Niko is already looking back.

“His Majesty, Reigning Supreme of the Western Courts, King . . .!”

Whatever the announcer said next is lost to static. The interference scrapes at my ears, and I suck in a silent hiss. Surely that was only Niko’s name. Did they cloak it on purpose?

“And his esteemed guest, future Queen Consort of the Western Courts, Lady Cadence Monroe.”

What?

I nearly stumble over my own boots. Barely keeping upright, I simply bow my head. This isn’t a good first impression, but I have zero intention of being a queen. Not of vampires. Not of anything.

Iron clings to the air, woven with rich incense and scorn. It’s as stifling as the silence as I follow Niko. When he stops, I do too.

When he offers a hand, I look up.

Sweeping opulence gleams from wall to wall. The finest metals, jewels, and artistry orchestrate a gaudy display, including those in attendance. There must be dozens of figures lining the courtroom, masked faces bowed in respect. Unlike the dreary, cold reverence from before, these court members now sparkle in rich golds and flowing fabrics, like vibrant koi fish in a sun-dappled stream.

They gather around the focal point of the room—two thrones of smooth obsidian. My skin prickles at the sight, and the room itself closes in tighter.

I take a shaky breath before placing my gloved hand in his.

Every eye is trained on us like a sniper. I spot Archduchess Imara near the front, only able to tell it’s her by her stature and clothing. Even she conceals her face, painted red eyes watching on a stark white covering.

Each step forward is like dragging concrete. This is wrong. This is wrong.

It’s an imitation of warmth. A decaying apple dipped in grandeur and gold. Just because I can’t see the core doesn’t mean I can’t smell the rotting flesh.

I don’t mean to squeeze his hand tighter. When I do, Niko’s head turns, and his eyes flick down to mine. Everyone is watching, and he knows that better than I do. I can’t mess this up, but I know I already am when he gently guides me to the left.

“Heresy!”

My heart plummets. Niko pauses, and I search his eyes, which cloud over like a thunderstorm. His gloved fingers tighten against mine.

He positions me in my seat before standing to his full height again. A measured step later, he settles into the polished obsidian, postured like a viper ready to strike.

“Go on,” he says when silence follows. “Speak. Explain why such filth leaves your mouth.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands tall. It’s the same venom he mixed into his tone for the finale. His voice ricochets over the room like a shower of arrows, many of the court members wincing or shuffling their feet.

“With utmost respect, Your Majesty . . .”

I can’t tell which mask that voice comes from.

“A Dissonant should never sit at your side.”

My breaths come sharp and shallow, and I train my eyes to the floor. They’re already renouncing me; they’re already questioning him.

“All who believe you can tell your king what to do . . .” Niko says, the edge of his voice sharpening. “Step forward. Let me properly hear your snide respect.”

Another bout of silence stretches on. Pressure builds between my temples, and a sob waits in the back of my throat. I just want this to end.

“I . . .You . . .!”

Someone suddenly stutters from the other side of the room.

“You haven’t the authority anymore!” the man cries out. “Y-You turned the Vox Crown against us, and . . .you had every intention to destroy us!”

My stomach can’t twist any harder as a wave of agreement sweeps through the room. I try to steady myself by remembering it was Niko’s decision.

Not that I can help but hurt for him. I feel it all as rage and grief roil under his skin.

There’s so much he wants to throw back at them, to rip their expectations apart. There’s also nothing he can say if he wants to keep the peace. I briefly glance over, the lump in my throat growing when I see his eyes raging red.

“Do not question His Majesty,” another voice purrs. “It was certainly the Dissonant’s doing, hm?”

A man cloaked in sapphire says it with scholarly confidence. His mask is gold-encrusted, with lavish foiling and closed eyes painted on delicately. He’s average in height. Clearly a noble, and the only one making a case for his king. It’s chilling that the blame shifts to me, though.

“It is what Dissonants were created to do.”

Ice runs through my veins. I snap my head over to find the man donned in all black: Ryel. I would know his condescending voice anywhere.

Haven't we gotten to know each other? Even if he’s never liked me . . .He thinks these are my true intentions? My nails create half-moons on my palms, clutching the last threads of my sanity. One crack in my calm, and I know I’ll shatter.

“She had no prior knowledge of her bloodline,” Selene speaks up, closer to the noble in blue.

While I can’t see her behind the layers of gray and gold, I know she’s staring back. She doesn’t condemn me, even if she can’t defend. I’d never blame her for that.

If she and Ryel are both here, what about Ezren? I comb through the crowd, wondering if he’d be shining brighter than usual.

“I saw.” His voice travels from the very back, so far I can’t see him. “Mendax revealed her truth, and there's no doubting an artifact that can't lie.”

For only a moment, my anxiety eases. Only two in the crowd are on my side, but that's more than zero.

“Intentional or not, she is a threat,” Ryel bites back. “A Dissonant through-and-through. Already bonded to our king. Already unraveling our customs.”

His absolutes are undeniably true. Just looking at the glow of this courtroom is wrong. Not a whisper of wrong notes, either, and no Vox Crown’s song. It’s a silent, pleasing mirage. I would be angry, too.

Niko remains silent. While I don’t want to, I lean into the fragments of him tangling with my own thoughts. It’s not like I can truly help it.

“It isn’t like we didn’t know this would happen,” Ryel continues from behind his mask. “Let us not forget the prophecy.”

Niko’s body jerks. Only slightly, but enough for murmurs to burst throughout the crowd. The same words echo around.

Dissonant. Prophecy. Treason.

What prophecy? What treason?

Searing pain arcs out, like an old wound that never healed being ripped further open. It bleeds into my chest, and I grasp myself with a silent gasp. The necklace Niko gave me—the one he fastened onto my neck again—pulses against my heartbeat.

A web of sensations jumble and thrash between us. Ryel cut deeper than any others; that much I can tell. I keep my hand steady against my chest and search for him in the crowd again. He must’ve receded.

“We must break it!”

More voices chime in, their sentiments mirroring that.

“Break the Dissonant bond!”

“Destroy the bond before it destroys us.”

“We implore you, Your Majesty!”

Each shout reverberates in my mind. Every insult feels like law. The assembly closes on a bitter note.

After hours drag by, and I find myself alone in the first light of day, I still hear them so clearly.

Niko’s silence is almost louder. I don’t know if I can forgive him, even if I understand. I haven’t felt this alone since before leaving home.

I checked my phone earlier, and the stillness crushes me. Why can’t my parents blow up my voicemail to berate my decisions? Why won’t Viola text me that she told me so?

Dawn prickles against my skin. Light already behaved so strangely on Mount Umbra, and now it’s worse. I’ve made it worse, haven’t I? Because the sun should never kiss these rocky ranges.

Everything is my fault.

I raise my hand to the sky to shield my eyes from daylight. To my left, a glimmer catches my attention, and my brows furrow.

Light dances off the bronze statue, mesmerizing amongst limestone dust. It stands alone in this barren courtyard, and as I slowly approach, I wonder if anyone else has greeted it recently.

As I circle around to see it’s a man with etched jewels and formalwear, I hum thoughtfully. It reminds me of something. I stop in front of it, looking down for a placard. Nothing.

“Who are you?” I ask softly, leaning in to get a better look.

That’s when I spot the small sign around the back. Why would it be back there? Like no one wanted to know.

I step around the imposing statue and have to crouch down to read the small print.

“The Vampire,” I whisper.

Next to the two words, something else has been etched into the metal. It’s too worn to make out the small shape, so I run my finger over it. Rounded, but too indistinctive to pinpoint what it originally was.

Heaviness lingers here. It’s not just Sancte Noctis, or even my own gloom. As I look over the metalwork, I of course see how beautiful it is. But when I peer into the bronze eyes, all the love this statue was shaped from disappears. Severity glints in his stern gaze, and my chest expands with sorrow.

I step back and take a deep breath. I’ve had enough of that today. Even now, I’m on limited time while Niko meets with his aunt.

My eyes drag across the sedimentary landscape. It’s still jagged and deafeningly silent.

Where did the wrong notes go? The Vox Crown no longer sings, and I’m too scared to go back to the concert hall. I don’t think Niko will return there anytime soon, either.

Our bond is awake. As I hold my hand to my heart, I can’t help but wonder if it’s always been there. Every phantom touch, the wrong notes transforming for him, the palpable electricity every time we’ve come close . . .

I don’t want to be fated to him. Not if there’s only destruction and disharmony on our path.

His people want my head. The outside world continues without me. Do my parents even care? Has Viola abandoned me for good? Ezren and Selene can only do so much, and Ryel leads the crusade against me.

Every time he looks into my eyes, I see it. How much Niko fears me.

I slowly lower my hands, staring at my palms. They look the same, yet they hold so much power now.

Dissonant.

My teeth grit, and my hands fly up to my temples. A crack of pain surges through my head, and I whimper. Not even ten minutes without Niko, and I’m already fraying.

Is this what I am? Dissonant? The world has decided it for me, and the writing’s on the wall. My blood—Dissonant blood—marked the beginning of the end. It’s proven.

Why, then?

Why does my blood sing a different tune?