Page 68 of Season of Naga: Volume 2
“Does any of that make sense to either of you?” The room seems to tilt slightly as exhaustion crashes over me again.
“When I stood with Varok to face off with General Thorne, he mentioned a seer named Zela they were holding captive, but Sareth thought it was Thorne's attempt to rile up Varok." Leira looks to Zara. "I know we already asked you, but do you recall having a twin sibling named Zela?"
Zara's scales shimmer with a ripple of tension as she shakes her head, her delicate features pinched with the effort of searching memories that aren't there.
My eyelids grow heavy despite my efforts to keep them open.
"Serin?" Leira's voice sounds distant. "Are you all right?"
“Just tired,” I say, handing the bouquets of glowing blooms to Leira. “Put these in water for me?”
“Of course. Rest now.” Leira murmurs, adjusting the blanket around me. "You're still healing."
"Stay?" I ask, the word slurring slightly as exhaustion claims me once more.
Always," Leira promises, her hand still wrapped around mine as I drift back toward healing sleep, no longer afraid of the darkness that comes to claim me. Not with my sister standing guard beside me, a bridge between the human world I've left behind and the naga realm that has somehow become my sanctuary.
Safety settles over me like a weighted blanket, the knowledge that my fierce, impossible, fire-wielding sister will be there when I wake. As consciousness slips away, my thoughts reach through stone and tunnel toward another. Somewhere within this underground city, Lurok waits, and my chest tightens with the quiet hope that he, too, will be here when I open my eyes again.
Chapter Twenty
LUROK
Ipause outside the Flame room, palm flat against ancient stone as I steady myself. Even before I enter, I sense her presence. A subtle shift in the air currents that should not be detectable, yet reaches me through whatever elemental bond now links us.
My scales tighten against my flesh as I fight the surge of anticipation. This is a debriefing, nothing more. Whatever passed between us in the grotto, whatever words she whispered as consciousness slipped away from her. None of it matters. The prophecy warns that only love shall fully ignite each power.
I steel myself against the pull of her, against this unwanted connection that threatens everything. If I yield even an inch, I will shatter like glass. And I cannot afford to succumb; the fate of my people depends on my strength, on the walls I must build around my heart.
I approach the door, my scales rippling with tension. The ancient stone recognizes my essence and flows open like water, revealing the sacred blue-gold flame that dances at the center of the chamber, casting ethereal light across the two females who turn toward my entrance.
Serin sits perched on the edge of the healing cot, her back straight despite the lingering weakness evident in her posture. Color has returned to her face, replacing the ashen pallor of near-death, and her eyes, those impossibly expressive human eyes, brighten at the sight of me.
Relief surges through me like a flash flood, so intense it threatens to crack my carefully constructed walls. She is truly awake and healing. I crush the feeling beneath the weight of duty before it can take root, forcing my expression into the neutral mask of a warrior reporting for duty rather than a male returning to his?—
No! Notmine.Never mine.
Leira rises from her chair beside her sister, gray eyes flickering to the silver armband encircling my bicep. "Lurok," she greets me, one finger gesturing toward the etched sigil that gleams against my scales. "I see Varok has returned your rank of Second Fang."
"Traven and I now share the position," I explain, running a claw along the etched metal. "After believing me dead, it would dishonor his service to strip away what he earned in my absence."
"You prove to be a hard male to kill," she grins. "I was just telling Serin about plans for rebuilding the market district. The artisan quarter will be restored first."
"So I have heard. The Sovereign Flame sent me to gather intelligence," I say, my voice emerging more clipped than intended. "If she is well enough to speak."
"She's well enough," Serin answers for herself, her voice carrying more strength than I expected. The stubborn lift of her chin reminding me of her unflinching determination as she dragged my unconscious body through miles of tunnel. "And she can hear you perfectly well."
A smile flickers across Leira's face before she smooths it away. "I'll leave you two to your... debriefing." She squeezes her sister's hand once before moving toward the door. As she passes me, she murmurs, "Try not to exhaust her completely with your questions, Lurok. She's still healing."
The door flows closed behind her, leaving us alone in the flame-lit chamber. For a heartbeat, silence stretches between us like a living thing, taut with all I cannot say.
I glide forward, maintaining a careful distance from her cot, my coils arranged in formal posture. "The Sovereign Flame requires any intelligence you might have gathered while in your father's house. Voices, plans, locations, names. Anything that might help us understand what we face."
Serin's face falls at my tone, but she straightens her spine, meeting my gaze directly. "I've already told Leira what I remember, and she passed it on to Varok.”
My jaw tightens. "Tell me anyway."
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. A gesture so achingly familiar it sends unwanted memories cascading through me. Her hair tangled between my fingers, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her body arching against mine in the grotto's hidden pool.
