Zorath's pulse pounded violently in his ears, his chest tightening with every passing second.
His breath felt short, almost strangled, as a sharp sting burned behind his eyes. His heart clenched, a foreign, unwelcome sensation twisting inside him.
He had no time for panic.
He had to confirm—had to make sure he wasn't jumping to conclusions. She had to be here. Maybe she was just being difficult, playing one of her stupid games to piss him off. Maybe she had fallen asleep somewhere.
But deep down, he already knew the truth.
His legs moved before he could think. Zeriah.
If Thalina wasn't in his room, there was only one other place she could be.
He rushed through the halls, ignoring the palace staff who threw him concerned glances.
His feet barely touched the ground as he reached Zeriah's chambers. He didn't hesitate, his knuckles rapping sharply against the door.
He barely waited. His patience had run out.
