Page 69 of Hunger & Harmony

I almost forget all my troubles and the night ahead. Cass breaks the spell.

“You’re on in thirty?”

“Hey, that’s thirty minutes to steer clear of the Court.” Ezren rolls his eyes. “They even let a couple of human reporters in. All this Q&A is pissing me off.”

“Where’s . . .” I clear my throat. “Where’s, uh, the others?”

It’s painful to even think about facing Niko, but I need to keep my cool. Especially with cameras pointed at him. There’s enough scrutiny without capturing his every move for the world.

Sancte Noctis feels like a pressure cooker teetering on the line between perfection and disaster.

“Oh, speaking of!” Lorelai says before Ezren can answer. “Sel is asking for our ETA.”

She taps at her phone, and my brows furrow. How come she’s an authorized personnel? Because she’s been here longer?

“I’ll lead the way,” Ezren says.

He loops his elbow with mine, stealing my left arm. Just as Lorelai glances up from her screen, he snags her right elbow, pulling us both to his sides.

“They’re gonna look anyway, right?”

His snickering brings an amused smile to my face, one that quickly fades. He’s right. They’ll be watching him, but even us. We’re directly linked to Arteria. We’re tied to the king of vampires, the center of tonight’s ritual.

My whole body numbs as Ezren hurries us off, Cass following silently. Everything’s a blur of long shadows and wilted flowers. The perfume of floral and iron laces every heavy breath I take, irritating my already stinging eyes.

No, I have to keep calm. I can’t screw up here. With even the shadows against me, this is the last place to be a crybaby.

Music joins our hurried footsteps. The closer we return to the cathedral’s center, the louder it grows, accompanied by the hushed murmurings of a crowd. My stomach is so knotted, I’m trying not to make my breakfast the opening act.

I hold Ezren’s arm tighter, and he glances down at me. We exchange a strained smile. He must feel it, too. We’re all in this cage.

A ribcage. That’s what it looks like, at least, my lips parting in awe when we enter the main hall from before. Only, it’s alive now, its undead heartbeat pulsing between rib-like beams. At the center of the ceiling is that chandelier of bone and crystal, now demanding attention.

The Vox Crown.

One glance, and I know it’s what called me. Its power radiates in orchestral notes, the same violin plucks and piano keys blending with its consistent hum, like it’s acknowledging me. Goosebumps sweep over my skin. I hope my grip isn’t too tense on Ezren as he walks us forward.

Below the crown’s domineering majesty, the main hall has transformed from barren to part opera house, part ossuary. Rising tiers form like an amphitheater, semicircular rows of vampires in ancient elegance waiting. Sumptuous fabrics marry jewel-toned, ivory, and ink details. What sends chills down my spine are the masks. Whether faceless or painted visages, vampires of the Midnight Court conceal their true faces.

All but one. Archduchess Imara watches from the only balcony, cloaked in jewels and vampiric regalia beyond my understanding. Few sit by her side, and I realize her power hasn’t diminished, despite stepping down for Niko. Her throne-like seating is stark white against the shadowed rows below.

From here, I notice her burgundy eyes are steady on one thing: the black-marble altar raised under the Vox Crown, serving as the center stage. There’s nothing but the veinlike inlays of silver, pulsing and anticipating.

There’s no chaos. No clutter of a typical stage with instruments, wires, and glitter stains. Only reverence and amplified scrutiny.

I hold my breath, moving like the ground under us is eggshells. As Ezren draws us closer to the center, masked faces openly turn towards us. Even if I can’t see them, I feel their piercing eyes. I’d almost rather be naked than in this red dress—the audience picks me apart like I am.

Archduchess Imara’s chin snaps downwards, and my blood runs cold. Her gaze fixes on me, and my only defense is Niko’s necklace pressing into my wrist.

I had every intention of leaving it behind. I don't know what possessed me to wrap it around my wrist and tuck it under my glove. The last thing I want is his protection, right? The pendant still feels like a shield.

Ezren doesn’t miss a beat. He casually leads us across the walkway, and we leave the concert hall through the opposite corridor as quickly as we arrived.

Oxygen returns to my lungs, and I’m shaking when we’re out of the Court’s sight. It’s quiet here, and intimately dim. Not a bad place to try to steel myself for the night ahead.

My relief immediately dissolves. I stop short, my eyes finding the only other one here. Niko’s back is to us as he stands before an arched window, the waning crescent moon staring down at him.

“Um, Ez . . .” I whisper.