Chapter 4 #2
Sylas circled them slowly, deliberately. Assessing. The way he might circle prey before deciding whether it was worth the kill or merely sport.
The one in red—Mia, based on the pre-briefing—stumbled backward immediately when he moved behind her. Nearly tripped over her own feet trying to increase the distance between them. Her fear was palpable, acrid and sharp in the air.
Useless.
The golden one remained still. Her fists clenched tighter in the fabric of her ruined gown, but she didn’t retreat. Didn’t cower.
Bold. Foolish. But bold.
Sylas completed his circle, stopping in front of Mia. He scowled down at her shaking form. “Your name.”
The answer came out barely above a whisper, words tumbling over themselves. “M-Mia. My name is Mia.”
He snorted. “And what do you want to happen to you, Mia? How should I punish you for not only trespassing on sacred land but destroying it?”
She flinched, shoulders rising defensively. “I—I don’t want to be a pet.” The words came out broken, uneven. “Can’t I just…stay in prison?”
Sylas raised an eyebrow, genuinely taken aback.
Prison. She suggested prison. Not freedom. Not a plea for her life or a bargain for better treatment. Just…acceptance of captivity.
He’d expected begging. Desperate pleas. Attempts to barter with skills or knowledge or anything that might buy her time.
Instead, she offered herself to his mercy without protest. Without any spark of defiance or survival instinct.
Her answer wasn’t enjoyable. He’d wanted to toy with her, test her limits, see how long it took for that fragile human composure to shatter completely.
But she’d already shattered. There was nothing left to break.
“Prison,” he repeated flatly, glancing at Ryxin. His brother looked equally surprised, ears swiveling forward with interest. “That’s your suggestion?”
Before he could press further, the golden one stepped forward.
Actually stepped forward, putting herself between him and Mia despite the chains, despite the obvious size difference, despite every logical reason to stay back.
“What if we worked off the damages?” Her voice was steady—impressively so, given the fear he could smell on her skin. Her gaze didn’t quite meet his, fixed somewhere around his chest, but she spoke clearly. “There must be something we can do. A job. Some way to compensate.”
Sylas turned his full attention to her.
This one had fire. Even terrified, even chained and helpless, she dared to negotiate. To suggest alternatives. To think instead of simply react.
Fascinating.
He studied her more closely. The defiant set of her shoulders. The way she angled her body to shield the weeping Mia without making it obvious. The intelligence in those blue eyes that darted briefly to his face before dropping again.
Not submission. Strategy.
“What are your skills?” Sylas asked, genuinely curious now. “What could either of you possibly offer that would make you worth keeping?”
Mia sniffled, wiping her face against her shoulder in a pathetic gesture. “I…I was a veterinarian assistant. I helped my boss care for animals. Mainly pets.”
Sylas tilted his head, ears flicking. “A healer, then?”
The terminology didn’t quite translate, but the concept was clear enough. They didn’t have healers who focused solely on animals—the weak and injured were killed, their resources reclaimed. But he supposed for species that kept pets, such a role might be necessary.
Before Mia could confirm, the golden one cut in.
“Yes. She’s a healer for animals.” Her words came quickly, practiced. “She could assist your healers—like Healer Yarx—or anyone else who needs help.” She paused, searching for the right words. “Your species…they’re similar to the canines on our planet. But more intelligent. Stronger. Deadlier.”
A diplomatic answer. Flattering without being obviously false.
Smart.
“She’d be a good fit,” the golden one continued. “Who doesn’t need more healers?”
Sylas turned to Ryxin, considering. “What do you think? Does your wing need a healer’s assistant?”
His brother crossed his arms, expression skeptical. “If she stops crying and proves herself not worthless, maybe.” He shrugged. “Yarx is overworked dealing with my Knights’ injuries from battling The Fallen. Another pair of hands wouldn’t hurt.”
Sylas weighed the option. Yarx was overworked. And while he didn’t particularly care about animal welfare, having someone to handle the minor medical issues of working beasts and hunting companions would free up actual healers for more important tasks.
“Fine.” He turned back to Mia, who’d stopped crying long enough to look hopeful. “You will work off your debts by assisting Healer Yarx. Prove yourself useful, or I will assign you to a less…pleasant task.” His gaze hardened. “Don’t disappoint me.”
The golden one stepped forward again. “The pits?”
Sylas’s attention snapped to her, intrigued by this newfound bravery. He straightened to his full height, staring her down. The question hung between them, bold and dangerous.
“The pits are for the weak, the useless, and the defiant,” he said, voice steady and resonant. “Rarely do I send females there. They are life-givers, and their crimes are often less egregious.”
He crossed his arms, considering. “But there have been a few. All but one perished. Those who survive are forgiven for their misdeeds—forever changed. Hardened. For the better.”
The golden one’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And what happens to those who were sent there by accident? Or because of an overreaction?”
Bold. Dangerously bold.
Sylas huffed, dismissing the thought with a shake of his head.
“There are no accidents. The weak are dealt with swiftly—Lux’s mercy grants them peace.
The strong endure.” He leaned forward slightly.
“They return to me devoted and cleared of any wrongdoings by the Great Snow Beast herself. That is how it works.”
Her frown deepened. “How often does that happen?”
“It depends.” He shrugged, tone deliberately casual. “Sometimes none survive. Sometimes one or two crawl back to the surface. Either way, it isn’t your concern.” His lips tilted into a faint smirk. “If the males with you are worth anything, they will survive.”
Her hands twitched against the cuffs, fingers curling as if resisting the urge to form fists.
Sylas bit back a chuckle. Adorable. This weak species attempting to appear strong, to challenge him with questions and posture when she had no power whatsoever.
“It doesn’t seem fair,” she said, shifting her stance. “Forcing humans to endure trials like that. Your species is clearly stronger. Equipped to handle whatever—”
“Fair?” Sylas interrupted, grin widening to flash teeth.
The word tasted bitter on his tongue. “This isn’t a matter of fairness.
It’s survival.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a growl.
“You shouldn’t worry unless one of those pathetic males was your mate.
If they were foolish enough to harm you, perhaps they deserve what’s coming. ”
She shook her head quickly. “I barely know them.”
Satisfaction flickered in his chest. “Then you have nothing to worry about.” His grin widened. “Not yet. Not until I decide what your worth is.”
He began to circle her again, slower this time. Deliberate. The way a hunter stalked prey—evaluating weaknesses, measuring potential.
Behind her, Mia stumbled back immediately, nearly tripping in her haste to avoid him. The golden one remained still, chin high, fists clenched in her ruined gown.
Sylas’s gaze roamed over her with clinical assessment.
The gown was wrinkled, dirtied with ash and impact stains. Her hair was wild, unkempt—strands sticking out in every direction like a feral beast’s mane. Even he knew humans preferred to appear groomed, yet this one looked half-savage.
Bruises darkened her pale skin along one shoulder, faint but visible. The rest of her appeared intact, though he’d need a thorough inspection to be certain. If he was going to claim her as property, he needed to know exactly what condition she was in.
She was far too thin by Yzefrxyl standards. Almost gaunt. On one of his females, her frame would suggest adolescence rather than full maturity.
But her scent—
Sylas inhaled, and the world narrowed.
Rich. Distinct. Like the fields of Frosted Tears that bloomed during the short warm months when the Mother Moon graced them with her closeness. Those delicate white blossoms with their bell-shaped petals and sweet fragrance carpeted the thin forests, a gift from Lux herself. A sign of blessing.
This human—this frail, furless, alien creature—carried that scent. It clung to her skin like a divine offering, wrapping around his senses and refusing to let go.
A prize.
A treasure fit only for an Alpha King.
No one else would take her. He wouldn’t allow it. Wouldn’t throw her into the pits where the desperate and violent could catch even a trace of this perfection. Those feral enough to fight for survival didn’t deserve such sweetness in their presence.
No. This scent wasn’t meant for anyone else.
It was made for him—the Alpha King, Champion of Lux, blessed by the Great Snow Beast herself.
His claws flexed. He reached out, lifting a strand of her golden hair between his fingers. The texture was softer than expected, finer than any fur. He brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply.
Her scent filled him completely. Sweet and heady and right.
A pleased growl rumbled in his chest, low and satisfied.
“What’s your name?”
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t cower. Her chin lifted further, defiance shining in those ice-blue eyes as she met his gaze directly.
“Elsa.”
The name rolled off her tongue, crisp and clear. No hesitation. No submission.
A smile curved his lips, slow and predatory. “Elsa.” He repeated it, testing the sound. Letting it settle in his mind alongside that intoxicating scent. “Fitting.”
He couldn’t let anyone else have her. Wouldn’t. She was his now, whether she knew it yet or not.
For a brief moment, he wondered if perhaps this human was worth far more than he’d ever expected.