Page 78 of Sold to the Nalgar
A soldier in dark armor strode in, the crest of the Lacris blazing on his chest plate, his eyes lowered but his approach urgent, bearing news not meant for public consumption.
Zarokh’s jaw tightened.
He lifted a hand languidly. “Approach.”
The soldier obeyed, bowing low before leaning in to murmur in Zarokh’s ear, a rushed, tight whisper.
Zarokh stilled.
Cecilia watched, her gaze a brand against his skin, sharp and perceptive, catching more than he intended.
“The outpost at Varahn,” the soldier hissed. “Razed. Commander dead. Survivors say Vuvak’s sigil was burned into the stones.”
Zarokh didn’t move, didn't breathe. But within him, something ancient and cold stirred.
Vuvak.
He had expected posturing, border skirmishes, sabotage perhaps, but this?
A strike so bold?
Deliberate.
Calculated.
His knuckles tightened on the arm of the throne until the black stone groaned.
Beside him, the silver translator stone nestled within the chains of Cecilia's necklace, whirred to life, feeding her the soldier’s words in real-time.
He saw her tense.
Smart girl.
Her maroon eyes flicked to him, reading the fury simmering beneath his skin.
But something else, too.
She saw it. The fracture.
Not fear, not weakness, but distraction.
She would think it was about her, that his anger was sharper, more volatile because of her. Perhaps, to some degree, she was right.
Zarokh turned his head, meeting her gaze.
He had never allowed anyone to stand beside him on this throne before.
Now that she was here, blood of his blood, flame of his thoughts, he could not pretend she was inconsequential.
She was his. That meant anything that threatened his realm also threatenedher.
But it also meant something far more dangerous.
If his enemies sensed this attachment, if his own people sensed his focus had shifted…
There would be consequences.
He rose slowly, commanding silence. The soldier backed away, bowing again.
