“Your majesty.” Moving from the couch, the sorcerer went down on one knee.

“Please… rise up. There is no need for such formality in private.” Somehow she moved right up to him without Illidan noticing her do so. The queen guided him back to the couch. “Let us be more comfortable, my darling sorcerer.”

As they sat, Azshara leaned toward Malfurion’s twin. Her touch set his soul on fire. Her very presence felt almost hypnotic.

Hypnotic? Illidan studied her.

The glow around Azshara had intensified, so much so that it even overlapped him. How Illidan had missed it revealed much about the queen’s control.

Even with that knowledge, it was all he could do from being overwhelmed by her.

“I’ve been most impressed by you, Illidan Stormrage! So very clever, so very powerful! Even our Lord Sargeras sees that or else why would he grant you such a precious gift?” Long, tapering fingers caressed the scarf. “Such a shame to lose the beautiful amber eyes, though… I know it hurts much…”

Her face was enticingly close to his and, at the moment, it was impossible not to want it closer. “I — I endured it, your majesty.”

“Please! For you, I’m merely Azshara…” Her fingers ran from his eye sockets to the rest of his face. “Such a handsome face!” She touched his shoulder, pushing aside part of his clothing. “So strong, too… and with the mark of the Great One there as well!”

Frowning, Illidan glanced down to where her hand lay.

An intricate pattern of dark tattoos enshrouded his shoulder. Beneath them and well-shielded, the night elf sensed an unearthly magic — the magic of Sargeras — that permeated his flesh. That he had not felt any of it until now stunned Illidan. With a quick glance to his other side, the sorcerer saw that a similar pattern marked his body there. Sargeras had truly claimed Illidan as a creature of the Legion.

Ignoring the queen for a moment, Malfurion’s brother gingerly touched one. Immediately he felt a surge of power. It coursed through him. His body radiated primal energy that he knew took as its source that which fed the Well. He realized that the demon lord had amplified his abilities by marking him so.

“Truly you are favored by him… and, thus, favored by me,” Queen Azshara whispered, drawing close again. “And there are many favors I can grant you, which even he cannot — ”

“Forgive this untimely intrusion, Light of Lights,” a figure at the door almost growled.

Illidan tensed, but Azshara coolly straightened, brushing back her luxurious hair and eyeing the newcomer with misleading, languid eyes. “What is it, dear captain?”

In contrast to the seductive brilliance surrounding the queen, Captain Varo’then emitted a darkness that reminded Illidan of the demons. He had only a hint of ability in the sorcerous arts, but Illidan already understood that the soldier was possibly as deadly in his own way as Mannoroth.

Perhaps deadlier at times, at least where it concerned his jealousy against real and imagined rivals for his queen. Varo’then all but seethed as he took in the sight of Azshara and Illidan on the couch. She did not help matters by reaching out and caressing the sorcerer’s cheek as she rose.

“I’ve come for him, your majesty. This one’s made promises and our lord expects those promises fulfilled.”

“And I will,” Illidan returned strongly, staring back at the officer despite the scarf. Varo’then’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he nodded.

“Then, by all means,” Azshara interjected, coming between the pair and glancing at both coyly. “I’m certain between the two of you that no dragon stands a chance! I very much look forward to hearing of your exploits — ” She ran a hand across the captain’s breast plate, causing his eyes to light up in lust. “ — both of your exploits, that is!” the queen added, doing the same over Illidan’s bare chest.

Despite knowing that she played games with the pair of them, the sorcerer could not help reacting slightly. Steeling himself against her wiles, he replied, “I will not disappoint you… Azshara.”

His use of her name without any title before or after it — and the close familiarity such use hinted at — did not sit well with the soldier. Varo’then’s hand slipped to the hilt of his sword, but he wisely let it pass without actually gripping the blade.

“We must first find the beast — which you claim you can do.”

Illidan took hold of the dragon scale. “I make no claim; I speak the truth.”

“Then, there is no need to wait. It is nearly nightfall.”

Turning to the queen, Illidan executed the sort of bow he had witnessed in Black Rook Hold. “With your permission…”

She gave him a regal smile. “And you may go, too, dear captain.”

“Most gracious, Light of Lights, Flower of the Moon…” Varo’then also bowed, his action crisp and military. He then indicated the doorway to Illidan. “After you, master sorcerer.”

Without a word to the armored figure, Illidan marched out. He sensed Varo’then follow right behind him. It would not have surprised Malfurion’s twin if the captain tried to knife him in the back, but Varo’then evidently had more control than that.

“Where do we go?” he asked his escort.

“You can do your casting once we’re away from Zin-Azshari. Our Lord Sargeras wishes this mission to be finished as soon as possible. He itches to set his feet upon Azeroth’s soil and give our world his blessing.”

“Fortunate is Azeroth.”

Varo’then eyed him for a moment, trying to find fault with his answer. Unable to do so, he finally nodded, “Aye, fortunate is Azeroth.”

The captain led him through the palace, eventually descending. As they neared the stables, Illidan asked, “So you’re to be my companion throughout all this?”

“You should have someone to watch your back.”

“I’m gratified.”

“Our great lord puts much stock into this notion of the disk fulfilling his needs. He will have it.”

“I welcome your company,” the sorcerer remarked. At that moment, however, they entered the stables. What Illidan saw there made him stop dead. “And what’s this?”

A dozen Fel Guard stood waiting near the night sabers, their monstrous faces eager for bloodshed. Two Doomguard flanked them, clearly there to keep order on their wingless brethren. Another pair of Fel Guard kept tight rein over a slavering felbeast.

“As I’ve said,” Captain Varo’then answered with possibly a hint of sarcasm. “You should have someone to watch your back. These…” He indicated the fiendish warriors. “…will watch you very carefully. Of that, I make my utmost promise, sorcerer.”

Illidan nodded and said nothing.

“We will make haste, I promise you, Rhonin.”

“Promise me nothing, Krasus,” the human returned. “Just be careful. And don’t worry about Stareye. I’ll deal with him.”

“He is the least of our worries. I trust you and the good Captain Shadowsong to keep the host together.”

“Me?” Jarod shook his head. “Master Krasus, you’ve got much too much confidence in me! I’m a Guard officer, nothing more! It’s as Maiev said, fortune smiled on me! I’m no more a commander than — than — ”

“Than Stareye?” smirked Rhonin.

“I am afraid we must count on you, Jarod Shadowsong. The tauren and the others, they see the respect you give them and give it back in turn. There may come another time when, as you did earlier, you must make a decision to act. For the sake of your people, I might add.”

The night elf’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’ll do what I can, Master Krasus. That’s all I can say.”

The mage nodded. “And that is all we ask of you, good captain.”

“Now that we have that little matter settled,” the human commented. “How do you plan to reach the lair?”

“The gryphons are no longer available to us. We shall have to take night sabers and urge them to their swiftest.”

“But that’ll take too long! Worse, it’ll leave you more vulnerable to the Burning Legion’s assassins!”