"Eira raised me," Zara says, brightly. "She taught me to understand what I see, to listen to the threads without getting tangled in them. But Varok visits me often." She looks at him with undisguised affection. "He brings me stories and sweet-fruits and showed me how to hold a blade, even though Eira said it was not proper for one as young as me."
Varok's mouth quirks in that subtle half-smile. "The elder guardian and I disagreed on certain aspects of your education."
“How were the seers lost for centuries?” I ask, unknowing the gravity of my not so simple question.
The garden's peaceful atmosphere seems to tighten around us as Varok's expression shifts, the momentary tenderness giving way to something more guarded, more cautious.
“The TrueCoil killed them all,” Zara states bitterly.
“What?” I gasp. “Why?”
“Peace with humans," Zara’s words slice through the garden's tranquility like a cold blade. "Coexistence. Shared prosperity. An end to isolation and suspicion."
"Not all welcomed these visions," Varok says, his tail shifting restlessly beneath him. "The TrueCoil formed in response. A faction dedicated to naga purity, to the belief that any contact with humans would weaken our bloodlines and corrupt our ancient ways. At first they merely opposed the seers politically, questioning their visions, undermining their influence." Varok's voice grows cold, distant. "But as negotiations with early human settlements began, their opposition turned deadly. More joined the insurrectionists and slunk into the shadows, hiding from capture."
Zara's small coils tighten beneath her, the only outward sign of distress as she listens to the fate of those who shared her gifts.
"They hunted the seers?" I whisper, the horror of it settling in my stomach like lead.
Varok nods once, sharply. "Systematically. Over decades. They called itcleansing the bloodlines.Temple by temple, settlement by settlement, they eliminated those who carried the seer traits until the seer bloodlines were all but extinguished."
The waterfall's spray feels suddenly colder against my skin. I think of Zara, this bright, gentle youth with her knowing eyes and innocent wisdom, and imagine her hunted for the mere fact of her existence. The thought makes my hands clench into fists.
"Somehow, after all those centuries, you were born with the gift," I say to her, my voice soft with wonder.
“Which is why she has a compliment of guards wherever she go—” Varok stops abruptly when Zara visibly pales. “You outmaneuvered them again.” Not a question.
Powerful arms fold across a broad chest, muscles rippling beneath scales that catch the light like burnished armor. Molten eyes narrow to dangerous slits as they fix upon the diminutive seer-youth, his displeasure radiating with the intensity of a predator's focus.
“Maybe just a little,” Zara squeaks.
Varok unfurls to his full height as he summons the guards with a single, imperious flick of his wrist. “Zaethir and Nirik will be escorting you in your return to the temple.” The two warriors materialize at his summons, their bodies coiled in readiness. His voice drops to a rumble that vibrates through the chamber. “Escort Zara back to the temple and let her guards know she has slithered out from under their watch once again.”
Varok's tail flicks once, his voice softening despite the steel beneath it. "As for you, little seer, I will have your word. No more slipping away from those assigned to protect you."
“I promise.” Zara's delicate features crumple into a pout, her violet eyes widening with practiced innocence. A soft, melodic whine escapes her throat as her scales shimmer with iridescence. She turns to me, and I stand to say goodbye. Her small hands clasp mine with surprising warmth.
“Farewell for now, Leira," she whispers, her voice suddenly solemn despite her earlier dramatics. Her fingers squeeze mine once more before she reluctantly glides toward her waiting escorts. Just before she reaches them, she pivots in a fluid arc. "And, Ry'Varok, beware the shadow that hides behind loyalty. Its fangs are patient."
Gooseflesh prickles my arms despite the garden's warmth. My eyes find the waiting guards—Nirik, young and openly concerned, and then Zaethir. The silver-blue scales of his face might as well be carved from ice for all they reveal. Then his gaze locks with mine across the flowering distance between us. Something flickers there, cold calculation? Perhaps I only imagine it, my mind conjuring threats where there are none. After all, he's made no secret of his dislike for me. I blink, and there's nothing but the perfect mask of duty on his face, leaving me to wonder if my own paranoia is painting monsters in the eyes of those who merely tolerate my presence.
“I will, tiny seer,” Varok nods. "Zaethir. Nirik. Once you see Zara back to the temple safely, you are dismissed for the remainder of the afternoon. I wish for privacy with my bloodmate."
Nirik bows immediately, his youthful enthusiasm barely contained even in this formal gesture. "Yes, Sovereign."
Zaethir takes longer to respond, a hesitation so brief, it’s nearly imperceptible. "As you command, Sovereign."
The two guards escort Zara from the garden, the crystal curtain at the entrance chiming softly as they pass through.When the last musical note fades into silence, Varok turns his full attention to me.
Chapter Nineteen
LEIRA
Once we are alone, Varok glides closer, so close the heat from his body envelops me like a physical touch.
Varok doesn't speak immediately. Instead, he circles behind me, his tail creating a soft whisper against stone. I feel him pause at my back, and the fine hairs at my nape rise in awareness. Then he leans down, his mouth near my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
"I have been thinking about our parting kiss this morning," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "About how I would have to wait to properly taste you."
