"Don't worry about me, Serin," I whisper. "Varok is keeping me safe.”
But Serin is safe in Clavenmoor, far from the TrueCoil's plots and ancient prophecy. That was the whole point of my sacrifice, to keep her from this world. To bear this burden so she wouldn't have to.
I straighten my spine, smoothing the silk tunic with practiced hands. The material catches the light, shifting from deep forest to something richer, more vibrant. Like so much in Vessan-Kar, it transforms when viewed from different angles, revealing new facets, new possibilities.
Perhaps I'm changing in the same way, revealing facets of myself I never knew existed until the light here caught them just right. The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating.
I glance once more at the door. My guards wait beyond it, my gilded cage extends through every corridor of the palace. But somewhere within these walls is Varok, and the promise of tonight hangs between us like a thread pulled taut.
For now, that promise is enough to make even the watchful eyes feel worthwhile.
The door pulses, signaling that someone awaits on the other side. I wonder who seeks me out so early in the day. Not Varok, he’s busy with council matters until evening. I approach and the stone flows apart. My breath catches in surprise as Zara is revealed. The sight of her immediately lifts something heavy from my chest, a weight I hadn't fully registered until it eased.
"Zara!" I exclaim, unable to keep the smile from my voice. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."
She slips inside with a swift, darting motion, her tail barely clearing the entrance before the stone seals shut behind her, too quickly for my guards to voice any objection.
She returns my smile shyly, her luminous violet eyes bright with excitement. Her scales shimmer with iridescent pearl white and lavender, catching the room's light in delicate ripples as she moves. Since I last saw her in the Flame room, she's adorned her silky white hair with thin silver bands that chime softly when she tilts her head, the strands falling like moonlight around her delicate shoulders.
"I thought you might be lonely," she says, her voice gentle as a whisper. "The palace is so big, and everyone is always watching."
The simple perception in her words stirs something in me. The relief of being seen, truly seen, by someone who looks past the title of Threadborn to the person beneath.
"You have no idea," I agree, gesturing for her to join me near the heartstone pit. "It's been ceremony and whispers and guards who speak to each other more than they speak to me."
Zara slithers closer, her tail curling beneath her as she settles beside the pit's azure glow. Up close, I notice how the veins beneath her translucent scales pulse with subtle light that matches her emotions, brightening now with what I sense is genuine pleasure of my company.
"The palace is like that," she confides. "I have visited with Eira twice before. Everything echoes here." She waves her small hand, encompassing the vast chamber. "Not just sounds. Feelings too."
I sit beside her, drawn to her openness. Where most naga maintain careful control of their expressions, Zara's emotions play across her face with unguarded sincerity.
"You can feel others' emotions, can't you?" I ask, remembering how she'd known I was afraid during our firstmeeting, how she'd sensed the connection forming between Varok and me before either of us acknowledged it.
She nods, the silver bands woven in her hair catching the light. "It is called echo empathy. I can feel the threads between people, especially strong ones, like yours and the sovereign's." A faint blush colors her scales, a deeper lavender spreading across her cheeks. "It's gotten...brighter since last time I saw you." She sniffs. “And he has marked you.”
“Marked me?” Heat climbs my neck at the implication.
“With his scent, to warn other males you are his,” she says simply.
I feel my cheeks burning hotter as I instinctively lift my arm to my nose. The scent is subtle but unmistakable, a dark intoxicating musk, and distinctly Varok. The thought of this perceptive young naga knowing Varok and I were intimate makes me want to crawl under the heartstone and disappear.
"Maybe we could get you out of this room and take a stroll,” she continues, mercifully changing the subject. "There is a garden in the inner palace. It is quiet there. Peaceful." Her eyes meet mine, earnest and hopeful. "And maybe you could tell me all about the sun? What it feels like on your skin? I have never seen it."
The simple request catches me off guard, making me suddenly aware of my own privilege. Sunlight, something I've taken for granted my entire life, is an unknown marvel to Zara who has lived her whole existence in this underground realm.
"I'd love that," I say. The prospect of escaping my chamber feels like a gift I hadn't known to ask for.
Zara's face lights up, the glow beneath her scales intensifying with her joy. "I thought you might like that. And..." she leans forward conspiratorially, "...maybe some air that is not thick with the court’s eyes."
I laugh, the sound startling me with its genuine lightness. "You read my mind."
“Not your mind," she corrects seriously. "Just the space around you. It gets...cloudy when people are overwhelmed.”
Her perception strikes me anew. "Well then," I say, standing and offering her my hand in a gesture that feels as natural as breathing, "let's go find some fresh air."
Zara takes my hand, her small fingers cool against my palm, scaled but soft, like holding living silk. The simple contact grounds me, reminding me of similar moments with Serin, of that uncomplicated joy of connection without agenda or expectation.
We reach the door to my chamber, and I feel a flutter of anticipation at the simple prospect of going somewhere, anywhere, beyond these walls. As the stone parts to let us through, Zaethir stiffens. His forked tongue flicks out, tasting the air. Silver-blue scales contract along his jaw in displeasure.
