Nesroth pushed through the terrible feeling deep in his gut and swept his gaze around the room.
The room was luxurious to its barest molecule. Expansive, akin to a grand hall. Gilded pillars lined the corners, soft red drapes hung from the ceiling, and the furniture was crafted from polished gold and velvet, which glimmered under the faint light illuminating the room.
But the only reason Nesroth was able to see through the thick, drug laced smoke that drenched the air was because he had been here a few times before. It wasn't a memory he would like to remember.
He slowed his breathing, dulling the smoke's effects on his body. The last time he'd been here, he had fallen into the temptation and let go completely. A mistake he'd sworn never to repeat.
Composing himself, he approached the king sized bed at the center of the room. There, the smoke cleared just enough for his gaze to make out a few outlines on the sheets.
A woman lay sprawled across the bed, a shisha pipe in hand, clearly the source of all the smoke.
She was nestled between two men who seemed entirely out of it. Completely naked, their eyes shut. The only sign of life was the rhythmic rise and fall of their chests.
'Isn't that…' Nesroth's eyes landed on one of the men.
There wasn't a soul in Sylvastein, especially in Kaer Thorn district, who wouldn't recognize him. The clan head of the Tendrix clan, one of the ruling clans of Kaer Thorn.
'Of course she got him in bed with her.' If anyone found out the clan head of Tendrix was sleeping with the Fourth Pulse, they wouldn't believe it.
But Nesroth wasn't surprised, only amused. He had worked with the woman for years. He knew exactly what she was capable of.
The woman's eyes stirred open slowly, and Nesroth dropped to one knee.
"Madam Beatrix," he greeted.
The Fourth Pulse, Beatrix, sighed as she saw him, looking thoroughly displeased at being disturbed.
"Nesroth," she said. Her voice was low and thick with haze. "What could possibly warrant you interrupting my fun time?"
"I apologize, Madam Beatrix," Nesroth said with a lower bow. "But there's trouble."
Her eyes sharpened instantly. Beatrix was not someone who tolerated false alarms. Nesroth would know that. If he said there was trouble, then there was trouble.
With a wave of her hand, she manipulated the blood of the two men, lifting and sliding their unconscious, naked bodies outside the room.
As the door sealed shut, she rose to her feet.
She was of average height for a woman, about 5'7, but she was well endowed in all the right places and carried the kind of beauty that came with danger.
Still, it was her eyes, those crimson eyes with their glint of madness that made most men uneasy.
Nesroth only caught a glimpse of her figure before she slipped into a silk robe. She moved to a table beside the bed, poured herself a drink, and downed the glass in one gulp.
"What happened?" Her tone had changed completely, sharper, colder.
"The Ninth Vein knows," Nesroth said. "He knows about the Gor'Mekhai… and the situation at Murkroot Hollow."
Her reaction was immediate. Nesroth could feel the weight of her stare. It was sharp, assessing. She was already planning.
He quickly spilled everything he knew. From Bronoda and his team's involvement to everything Malakai likely knew now.
By the end of his narration, the room felt colder.
"Intercept every communication between Sylvastein and Vitaemora for the next few days," Beatrix ordered.
Nesroth's eyes widened, but before he could say a word…
"Save it," she cut in. "Failure isn't something you're known for, Nesroth. And yet, you've failed me."
She poured herself another drink and downed it.
"I don't care how much manpower you need, make it happen. And focus your surveillance on everyone in that wretched squad."
Nesroth clenched his fists. Her request was ludicrous, Sylvastein and Vitaemora exchanged an uncountable number of messages every day. And now he was to monitor all of them?
Still, he understood. It wasn't just paranoia. Too much time had passed since the incident occurred. There was no way of knowing who Malakai may have spoken to. They needed to be sure.
He nodded. "Yes, Madam Beatrix."
"If it's confirmed that he hasn't sent word to the clan," she continued, "keep it that way."
Nesroth clenched his fists tighter at her words. He knew what was coming.
"Do I have to spell it out?" Her voice was ice. "Kill the bastard. Subtly, loudly, in his sleep, I don't care. I want him fucking dead. Figure it out."
Nesroth exhaled heavily. Then nodded. "Yes, Madam Beatrix."
He had a feeling anything other than 'yes' would've cost him his limbs.
"Good," Beatrix said. "And keep a close eye on his squad members. Especially their captain."
"The drunk?" Nesroth asked. Everyone knew Rhett was a walking disaster.
But Beatrix shook her head. "Don't let that fool you. He's not to be underestimated."
She remembered the monster that once walked alongside Valerian, how the two of them stood against armies of darkness without flinching. Most pulse didn't know of it, but she knew.
Nesroth nodded seriously. In his mind, Rhett's threat level had just skyrocketed.
Beatrix sighed loudly, clearly agitated. She truly couldn't believe this had happened. After a pause, she decided to shift the conversation.
"Has there been any progress at all?"
Nesroth knew exactly what she was referring to. He shook his head.
"Not yet, Madam Beatrix," he said. "Your plan to use darkness creatures to locate their settlement will take time to bear results. Many adjudicators and even blood knights are trying daily."
"Time is not a luxury we have." Beatrix's eyes grew colder. "The clan could find out at any moment. Worse… one of the other pulses."
She didn't say their names, but the image of Drennos or Varnel discovering the truth made her chest tighten. She couldn't afford it.
"If this doesn't work within a week, be prepared to storm the forest."