"He will come."
23
VARGATH
Istorm through Azhgar's corridors like wildfire, my boots echoing off stone with each furious step. Every face I pass shrinks away from the murderous intent that must show in my expression. Good. They should fear me right now.
"You." I grab a temple guard by his leather vest, hauling him against the wall. "Where were you at dawn?"
His eyes go wide as dinner plates. "S-sleeping, Warleader. In the barracks with?—"
"Anyone see the human taken?" I shake him once, hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Anyone hear anything?"
"No, sir. Nothing. I swear by the old gods?—"
I release him with a growl of disgust and move on. The next guard gives me the same useless answers. So does the servant who tends the braziers. And the kitchen wench who brings morning water.
Nothing. No one saw anything. No one heard anything. As if Seris simply vanished into smoke.
My fists clench until my knuckles crack. Someone in this place knows what happened, and I'll tear answers from their throats if I have to.
"Warleader." A young orc approaches hesitantly, barely old enough to hold a spear. "Might I?—"
"Speak or get out of my way."
He flinches but holds his ground. "I tend the outer temple fires. Before dawn, I saw... well, I thought I saw someone leaving through the side entrance."
My blood stills. "Who?"
"I couldn't tell for certain. Too dark, and they moved quickly. But..." He glances around nervously. "They wore fine armor. Not guard issue. Something ceremonial and she?—"
"She?" I demand.
The pieces click into place like a blade sliding home. Only one woman in Azhgar wears ceremonial armor as daily dress.
I find Zharra in her chambers, seated at her polished bronze mirror, braiding her hair with nimble fingers. She doesn't look up when I enter, though her shoulders tense slightly.
"Vargath." Her voice carries that familiar note of possessive warmth. "I wondered when you'd come to me. This business with the human must have you?—"
"Where is she?"
Her hands still for just a heartbeat before resuming their work. "Where is who?"
"Don't." I step closer, close enough that she can see my reflection behind hers in the mirror. "Don't insult us both with games."
She meets my eyes in the bronze surface, her expression perfectly composed. "I have no idea what you're talking about. If your little pet has run off?—"
"She was taken. From the temple. While I stepped out for a single moment."
This time Zharra does pause, a flicker of something crossing her features. Surprise? Satisfaction? It's gone too quickly to read.
"How terrible for you." She resumes braiding, each twist deliberate and controlled. "Though I can't say I'm shocked. Humans are weak creatures. Perhaps she simply couldn't handle our ways any longer."
"Someone saw you leaving the temple at dawn."
Her laugh sounds like breaking glass. "Me? In that crumbling ruin? I wouldn't soil my boots on those floors."
"Then where were you?"
