Chapter 15 #2
I’ll deal with you later. The promise was silent but certain.
When only the Lux Priest remained, the old male moved closer, his movements careful despite his age. He waited until the heavy doors had sealed before speaking.
“You handled that well.”
“I handled it.” Sylas dropped into his seat at the table’s head, suddenly exhausted. “Whether ‘well’ applies remains to be seen.”
“Xar grows bolder. He’s gathering support among the faithful—those who believe the Blood Moon should bring a challenge, regardless of your strength.”
“Let him gather.” Sylas’s claws tapped against stone. “He’s not strong enough to challenge me directly, and any male he sponsors will face the same fate as the last three who tried.”
“Perhaps.” The priest settled onto a bench, his white fur seeming to glow in the pale light. “But the argument about Lux’s blessing...that carries weight, my king. More than you may realize.”
“The human carries a pleasant scent. That doesn’t make her divine.”
“Doesn’t it?” The priest’s amber eyes met his.
“The Frosted Tears are sacred to our people. They bloom only during the Mother Moon’s closest approach—a time of fertility, of abundance, of Lux’s direct attention to our world.
A human carrying that scent...” He trailed off, searching for words. “It’s unprecedented.”
“Many things about this situation are unprecedented.”
“Yes. Including her ability to handle the core.” The priest leaned forward, his voice dropping.
“My king, I’ve studied Moon Tear interactions for sixty years.
I’ve seen what happens when our own males handle unshielded crystals—the madness, the deterioration, the eventual loss of self.
That human female held a core of unprecedented purity for nearly a full minute. ”
“And collapsed.”
“And survived.” The distinction seemed to matter deeply to the old male. “Her neural pathways overloaded, yes. But she recovered. No Fallen symptoms. No signs of the contamination that should have killed her or driven her to madness.”
Sylas processed this. He’d known Elsa’s survival was unusual—had seen Yarx’s confusion, had felt his own relief when she’d woken without the empty eyes of the Fallen.
He hadn’t considered what it meant.
“What are you saying?”
The Lux Priest was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of decades spent interpreting divine will.
“Lux marks don’t happen by accident, my king. The scent. The survival. The way the core responded to her presence during retrieval—my engineers reported the crystal reached for her. Amplified its output the moment she touched it, as if recognizing something.”
“Recognizing what?”
“I don’t know.” The admission seemed to cost the old male.
“But I’ve served Lux my entire life. I’ve witnessed three Alpha Kings rise and fall.
I’ve seen the moon turn colors I couldn’t name and watched males I loved become monsters.
” His amber eyes held steady on Sylas’s face.
“And in all those years, I’ve never felt Lux’s presence as strongly as I did in that integration chamber.
When the core activated. When your human stood at the observation window, watching. ”
Cold crept down Sylas’s spine.
“You’re saying Lux has taken an interest. In Elsa.”
“I’m saying the Great Snow Beast doesn’t waste her attention on things that don’t matter.
” The priest rose, movements slow with age but dignified.
“Whatever that human is, whatever she represents—she wasn’t a random crash survivor who happened to smell pleasant.
She was sent. Whether as test or blessing or warning, I cannot say. ”
“And your recommendation?”
The priest paused at the doorway, looking back.
“Keep her close. Protect her with everything you have. And when Xar or Vask or any other fool tries to take her from you—” His lips pulled back in something too old to be a smile.
“Remember that Lux doesn’t take kindly to those who interfere with her plans. ”
He left.
Sylas sat alone in the council chamber, surrounded by maps and politics and the echo of warnings he didn’t fully understand.
Lux marks don’t happen by accident.
He thought about Elsa’s defiance. Her sharp mind. The way she’d demanded information rather than simply accepting captivity. The way she’d looked at him without fear—not because she didn’t recognize the danger, but because she’d chosen to face it anyway.
Sent.
The word settled into his bones with uncomfortable weight.
If the priest was right—if Lux had actually chosen to place Elsa in his path, on his planet, in his territory—then the political calculations changed. The possessive instincts he’d been fighting weren’t just his beast’s obsession. They were...sanctioned. Encouraged.
Expected.
And the males who wanted to take her from him weren’t just rivals. They were heretics.
The thought should have simplified things. Instead, it made everything more complicated.
Because if Elsa was divinely chosen, then his responsibility to her extended beyond ownership. Beyond even protection.
He had to be worthy of what Lux had given him.
Sylas rose from the table, claws scraping against obsidian as he pushed to his feet. The afternoon stretched before him—patrols to oversee, reports to review, the endless administrative weight of ruling a territory that wanted to tear itself apart.
But first.
He needed to see her.
She was exactly where he’d left her.
Curled in the nest of furs that still seemed to swallow her small frame, golden hair spread across pillows meant for someone three times her size. The afternoon light through the narrow windows painted her in shades of silver and shadow.
Asleep. Still recovering from the core’s effects, despite Yarx’s assurances that the worst had passed.
Sylas closed the door behind him, the heavy mechanism sealing with a sound that didn’t wake her.
His chambers felt different with her in them—smaller, somehow, though nothing about the physical space had changed.
Just the awareness of her presence pressing against walls that had only ever known solitude.
He crossed to the window, putting distance between himself and the sleeping female while he sorted through what the council meeting had revealed.
Xar’s ambition. Vask’s maneuvering. The Lux Priest’s warnings about divine attention and blessings that couldn’t be ignored.
Keep her close. Protect her with everything you have.
He was already doing that. Had been doing it since the moment he’d scented Frosted Tears on a fragile human who should have died in the snow.
But now the stakes had shifted. This wasn’t just about territory or possession or the political statement of keeping a pet. This was about—
“You’re brooding.”
Her voice came sleep-rough, barely above a whisper. Sylas turned to find her watching him through half-lidded eyes, still cocooned in furs but awake.
“I’m thinking.”
“Same thing, with you.” She pushed herself upright slowly, the movement still careful despite three days of recovery. “The council met this morning.”
“Yes.”
Concern flooded her face as her gaze raked over him. “Bad?”
He considered lying. Considered softening the truth into something more palatable. “Xar wants you studied by priests. Vask supported him. They know you sleep here, in my chambers.”
Her expression didn’t change. “And that’s a problem.”
“It feeds their argument. That you’re more than a pet. That I’m hiding something by keeping you in my personal space instead of the Luna’s quarters.”
“Are you?”
The question cut deeper than it should. Because the answer was yes—he was hiding something.
The way her scent quieted his beast. The way her presence stabilized the Moon Tear energy that would eventually destroy him.
The way he’d started thinking of her as his in ways that had nothing to do with ownership.
“I’m protecting you.” The deflection came out rough. “The Luna’s chambers are too far from the medical bay. Too accessible to anyone who wants to make a point about my judgment.”
“And your chambers aren’t?”
“My chambers open only for me.” He moved toward the bed, drawn despite his better judgment. “No one enters without permission. No one leaves without my knowledge. You’re safer here than anywhere else in this fortress.”
She studied him with those too-sharp eyes. Cataloguing. Calculating. Seeing things he’d rather keep hidden.
“That’s not the only reason.”
No. It wasn’t.
He stopped at the edge of the bed, close enough to touch but holding himself back.
“The Lux Priest believes you’re divinely marked.
That Lux herself sent you here for reasons we don’t understand.
” His voice dropped. “If that’s true—if you’re some kind of blessing or test or whatever the old male thinks—then keeping you close isn’t just preference. It’s obligation.”
“Divine obligation.” Her tone carried something he couldn’t identify. “That’s a convenient excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse. It’s—” He stopped. Started again.
“Elsa. The males on that council would tear you apart to prove a point. Xar thinks you should be dissected for religious enlightenment. Vask would hand you over without a second thought if it destabilized my rule.” His claws flexed against his thigh.
“I’m the only thing standing between you and creatures who see you as a resource to be exploited. ”
“So I should be grateful.” Not a question. “For my comfortable cage.”
“You should be alive.” The correction came out fierce. “Which you won’t be if I let them take you.”
She held his gaze for a long moment. Then something shifted in her expression—not quite softening, but...acknowledging. The reality of her situation. The truth of what he was saying.
“The restrictions,” she said quietly. “Xar and Vask will want proof that I’m controlled. That keeping me here doesn’t mean you’ve lost perspective.”
She’d been listening. Or thinking. Or both.