Page 72 of Hunger & Harmony

They must be ready. The ritual is starting. No one has come looking for me, and I’m glad to stay back here. I need to craft up an excuse for Lorelai. Maybe start looking for a different job, too. The pieces of my heart shatter further.

Niko’s voice fills the hall, bleeding out into my dark hiding spot. His words are so simple; a greeting I’ve heard again and again throughout this tour.

“Welcome all.”

But different.

My head slowly raises, and I instinctively push myself off the wall. His voice is not a poignant tone of longing, regret, or even melancholy. It sends shivers down my spine, and my feet pick up to at least see what’s going on.

“Yes, welcome, ladies and gentlemen of my court.”

There’s an edge to his voice I’ve never heard before. When I finally dare a glance into the main hall, my eyes widen at the sight.

No longer empty, the black altar hosts all of Arteria and their instruments. The once silver veins are now a rich gold, reflecting the details of Niko’s outfit. My eyes peel away from him to glance at the audience. Archduchess Imara stands at the balcony’s edge, her fingers tight on the bannister.

“Fortunately, there’s been a change in plans,” he continues, and I find Selene’s face.

While measured, she looks confused as she clasps her bass guitar. Alarmed. So do Ezren and Ryel. The Vox Crown responds to its king above, pulsing silently like it waits for a command.

“At least it’s fortunate for me.” Niko’s eyes then narrow, vividly crimson. “You will hear the truth in my ruin.”

Gasps erupt from behind masks as he gestures broadly.

“All of you.”

My breath catches in my throat. The cameras. Human media broadcasts his every word, already on-air. It’s not just vampires and the Midnight Court watching. It’s all of Aurea.

This isn’t to punish me. This is to punish them. The Court, the crown, the world.

Himself.

Just as I reach a hand out, the first note from his guitar wails. Its force sweeps through the hall, knocking onlookers back and awakening the crown above.

All of Sancte Noctis groans. As Niko’s fingers spark along guitar strings, its searing attacks build and build. The Vox Crown shakes violently, each iridescent crystal darkening into red and the bone shining in etheric response. I raise my arm to cover my face, every note striking through my body like I’m made of paper.

It doesn’t physically hurt, but I feel every ounce of his rage filling the air. The rest of Arteria are frozen as his electric solo punches out in high frequencies, and it’s only when the last note fades out that Selene steps towards him.

Was taught to pray with hands in chains,

Taught desire is another name for pain.

Selene halts halfway, though when I watch her face, I can’t tell if she stopped on her own. Unrest breaks out in the audience, and one thing is clear: there’s nothing restraining the king’s power.

But I won’t bow, I won’t repent,

I’ll only ruin what the dark has sent.

His siren song is no longer weaving or commanding. Tearing through the hall, it splinters stone, bringing vampires and mortals alike to their knees. His voice is destroying.

I cling to the archway’s edge, not weakened by his power, but his anguish. All of his smiles, all of his laughter, and all of his softness play in my mind.

He never wanted this. I know it. Maybe I’m the only one who has ever known that about him.

When you burn, look in my eyes . . .

Each syllable is inauthentic to the man I know. He flirts with danger, beckoning destruction like a lover. Music bursts out from behind him, not from his members, but the hall itself. Even his guitar is rendered useless around his waist; only his voice is needed to devastate all he sees.

His garments rip open, the last shreds of restraint lost to his might. Sancte Noctis was built to listen, and now he doesn’t hold back.