Page 64 of Hunger & Harmony

When we slow to a stop, the destination waits atop Mount Umber’s largest cleft. Even if I didn’t already know, nothing about Sancte Noctis feels mortal. It’s alive, but not in a way I recognize. Black spires pierce the empty sky, and I swear, the gargoyles perched above are watching.

Is this a castle or a cathedral? Does the distinction even matter to vampires?

My eyes scan the figures standing on the sweeping stone steps. Eight people lined at the bottom, tall and cloaked in oxblood cloaks. They wait, still as statues, with their focus trained on our bus. At least, that’s what I gather. I can’t see their faces within the hoods. I swallow hard.

“Everyone,” Niko says from behind. I didn’t notice him enter, but I hear the others shuffling into the main area. “The time has come. I go first, then the rest of Arteria, and everyone else last.”

I slowly turn to see the man who left me breathless and brokenhearted. That damned necklace I can’t bring myself to take off heats under my shirt, the guitar pick pulsing against my skin as I stare.

There’s no mistaking who he is. He wears his power in the form of an ivory crown. It’s smooth and dull, indistinguishable from bone. It has no jewels or embellishments. My teeth worry at my bottom lip, catching on the wound that’s still healing.

The black suit must’ve been tailored to be one with his body. I can only see the rich brocade of the shirt and intricate embroidery along his pants and structured coat when the light hits him just right. The all-black outfit is subtle. They know he doesn’t need gaudy announcements.

Behind the calculated opulence, I see his weariness so clearly. Who he really is, and how he actually feels. I wish I could enjoy that. Be petty and revel in his misery after how he left me. All it does is destroy my heart, and I hate every string of fate that leads me away from him.

I hadn’t noticed, but Ezren is dressed just as stiffly. Selene stands in a formal, sleek black dress, and Ryel is ready, too. Of course. This is where the Court watches most closely.

“Those underlings are waiting,” Ryel says after peering out the windows, glaring at the cloaked figures.

“Yes.”

Niko’s shoulders square. His features harden, all emotion being turned off in mere moments. Like a puppet, his body moves mechanically, walking another man’s rhythm off the bus.

I want to look away, but I can’t. I’m stuck watching as he strides towards Sancte Noctis. His home. His kingdom. Those underlings move in eerie synchronicity, flanking Niko as he ascends the steps to the imposing onyx doors.

It’s surreal knowing I’ll cross through them, too.

I catch Ezren’s knee bouncing again. Nudging him, I muster up an encouraging smile.

“You’ll be fine,” I say. “Many times, right?”

“Yeah.” His grin doesn’t reach his eyes. “What’s one more?”

Lorelai waves me over, and I’m not given time to watch the rest of Arteria file out. It’s now just me, her, and Cass, as they both openly scrutinize me.

When I glance down, I know sweatpants and a pajama shirt aren’t going to cut it.

“They have a lot of rules here,” Lorelai says, snatching my wrist before dragging me forward. “Let’s go over them.”

We move at warp speed, her hands working as fast as her mouth. Etiquette and standards go in one ear and right out of the other. I try to keep up, but I’m out of breath by the time she’s done with me, and I didn’t do much.

“And remember,” she says, pointing her pink stiletto nail at me. “Compliance, Cadence. Compliance! That’s rule number one.”

I salute her.

“Got it.”

Maybe I don’t, but I’m not as unsettled.

The dress helps. I feel like a princess, black chiffon flowing from the high-neck to the leather pumps Lorelai had me borrow. The back is open, and a sheer scarf tumbles over my bare shoulders down to the back of my legs. I haven’t worn this much black since New Lure. Lorelai also did my makeup and dabbed some of my cherry gloss on for good measure.

Am I worthy to stand in Niko’s shadow? At least I look like I belong.

I make sure to tuck the necklace under the fabric—something tells me I don’t want to draw that kind of attention.

Lorelai hurries to finish dressing, carefully placing a fascinator hat on as the final touch. With her pink hair twisted into a bun and the black veil obscuring her face, I hardly recognize her.

“Do I need one of those?” I ask.