The glass stabilizes suddenly. Sareth snaps to alertness at the sight of my face, reading the emergency in my expression before I speak a single word.
I waste no time with preamble. "Wake your Talons. Leira is gone."
The effect is immediate. Sareth's scales bristle visibly, his massive form straightening as he moves closer to his own serpentglass connection. "Gone?"
"Drugged and taken," I say, my voice deadly calm though fire licks at the edges of my control, threatening to burst free. "Either Lurok's faction or the TrueCoil. Secure Vessan-Kar and send Talons to the temple. No one leaves and detain the female called Miria."
Sareth turns to bark orders at someone off-screen. "My Talons will sweep every passage, every tunnel. If she is still within our walls, we will find her."
"And if she has been taken beyond?" I press, the possibility tearing at me like claws.
"Then we will track them," Sareth answers, his voice hardening with resolve.
"And find Zaethir and Nirik," I add, my chest tightening with worry for the loyal guards who would never willingly abandon their posts. "Her guards were missing from their post."
"We will," Sareth promises, his expression grim.
"Any word from Traven?" I ask, coils tightening beneath me.
"Not since his last communication before his wraiths left Vessan-Kar," Sareth replies.
"Report to me the moment you have anything," I order. "I will be at the Temple of Threads. The cakes that drugged her came from there, and I believe it was Miria who prepared them."
Sareth bows, the serpentglass rippling as he disconnects. My palm remains pressed against the now smooth stone as the crushing weight of responsibility and fear settles over me.
I should have explained the OathCoil to her when it was first placed. I should have followed her after our argument instead of wallowing in self-pity. So many different choices that might have prevented this nightmare.
Regret is a luxury I cannot afford, not with Leira drugged and held captive somewhere beyond my reach. Not with our bond stretched so thin I can barely feel the thread of her consciousness anymore.
I pull my hand from the wall and straighten to my full height. Self-recrimination must wait. I need answers, and I know where to find them: the Temple of Threads.
I burst from Leira's chambers, my body moving with battle-ready precision while my mind races ahead. Every second matters now. Every heartbeat puts more distance between my bloodmate and safety. The sedative I tasted was potent, but its effects will not last forever. When she wakes, disoriented and captive, I want my Talons already closing in, her captors already trapped. I want her to know I am coming.
The corridors blur as I surge through them, my coils propelling me with the full force of desperation. Servants flatten themselves against walls as I pass, wisely sensing the lethal focus radiating from my scales. I do not slow to acknowledge their bows or their startled expressions.
I exit the palace and surge through the tunnels at blinding speed, my coils propelling me forward with desperate purpose. The Temple rises before me, its spires of carved stone already surrounded by my Talons, their scales catching the faint bioluminescent glow that pulses against Vessan-Kar's night cycle darkness. Sareth's efficiency, at least, does not surprise me.
I surge to a halt before Hydat, the first Talon I reach. "Miria?" I demand.
"Not here, Sovereign," Hydat reports, scales bristling with tension. "Prithas Sareth had us search the herb gardens and her quarters. No trace."
"Venom curse it!" My tail slams against ancient stone, and surge forward. The doors to the Temple recognizing my blood and flowing open before I can demand entry. Heat radiates from my scales, the air around me shimmering with barely contained fire that leaves scorch marks in my wake.
The Temple's usual hushed reverence is already shattered with Talons searching every shadow. My passage echoes through vaulted chambers, the slap of scales against stone reverberating like war drums. Guardians coil at side passages, alarmed by the disturbance, only to press themselves flat against walls when they recognize their sovereign moving with lethal purpose.
I spot Eira near the central altar and surge toward her, my coils propelling me forward with barely contained rage. With a sharp gesture, I guide her to a shadowed alcove away from prying ears. Trust has become a luxury I cannot afford.
"Where did the cakes come from?" I demand, my voice a harsh whisper.
Confusion crosses her aged face, genuine and unguarded. "What?—?"
"The glimmergrain cakes," I press, leaning closer as heat radiates from my scales. "The ones given to my bloodmate this day. Who made them?"
Recognition dawns in her eyes, followed swiftly by understanding. "From Miria," she answers, her voice steady despite the tension crackling around us. "She gathered the ingredients from the gardens herself. Is that why she is being sought by the Talons?”
"Yes," I growl, my fangs flashing in the dim light. "Leira was drugged with the same sedative used when Zara tended her leg. The cakes were the delivery method. Someone my bloodmate trusted has betrayed us all."
Eira's scales pale to a ghostly white, her ancient eyes widening as the full implications register across her features. “Miria has served the temple faithfully. I never suspected her as anything but loyal…" She trails off, her gaze distant.
