And his eyes, when they found Elsa’s face, still held something that looked like recognition. Like hope, despite everything this place had done to crush it out of him.
Krix released Rowan with a shove that sent the engineer sprawling. The guards dropped Milo beside him.
“They’ve been cooperative,” Krix reported to Vask. “The engineer’s blood shows promising markers. The cook—” He glanced at Milo’s ruined hands. “—requires more exposure before we can confirm the purification response.”
Elsa’s stomach clenched. Blood. Exposure. Purification.
Elsa started forward without thinking. One step, two—then a clawed hand closed around her upper arm, yanking her back hard enough to wrench her shoulder. Pain flared, but she barely registered it. All her attention was fixed on the two men sprawled at her feet, the crew members she’d failed to protect, the humans who’d been suffering in darkness while she navigated court politics and tactical ceremonies above.
“Elsa.” Rowan’s voice came out cracked, barely a whisper. He lifted his head from the stone, and the effort it cost him showed in every line of his battered face. “You’re...you’re alive.”
“I’m alive.” She kept her voice steady through sheer force of will. “So are you. Both of you.”
Milo made a sound that might have been a laugh, or a sob, or something in between. “Didn’t...didn’t think anyone was coming.”
“Enough.” Vask’s voice cut through the chamber, sharp and cold. “This isn’t a reunion. This is a demonstration.”
He moved between Elsa and the fallen men, blocking her view with his body. Up close, in the flickering torchlight, she could see the ritual scars that marked his throat and jaw—deliberate patterns cut into fur and flesh, the visible proof of hisdevotion to Lux. His robes rustled as he turned, addressing her like she was an audience rather than a prisoner.
“You carry Lux’s blessing. The faithful have watched you—watched what you did at the ceremony, how you cleansed the corrupted core with nothing but your human hands.” His voice dropped, intimate, terrifying. “We’ve been waiting for a sign like you for generations. And now you’re here, wasted on a king who treats sacred gifts like political currency.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Cooperation.” The word rolled off his tongue like a prayer. “Willing participation in what comes next. The grid systems beneath this fortress contain seals that haven’t been opened since before the current bloodline took the throne. Old power. Sacred power. Power that responds to Lux’s blessing—” He gestured toward her. “—and therefore, to you.”
Elsa’s gaze flickered past his shoulder, finding Rowan and Milo on the floor behind him. Rowan had managed to push himself partially upright, his ruined hands braced against the stone. His one good eye met hers, and she saw something there—not defeat, not despair, but calculation. The same stubborn problem-solving that had kept theStardancer’ssystems running through crisis after crisis.
He was waiting. Watching. Ready to move if she gave him a signal.
“These men,” Elsa said carefully. “If I cooperate—what happens to them?”
“They become valuable.” Vask’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Useful. Assets rather than liabilities. I could arrange…lighter duties. Better food. Perhaps even eventual release, once your cooperation has proven...sustainable.”
Lies. Every word was a lie, dressed up in reasonable tones and reasonable promises. But the lie itself told her something useful—Vask needed her willingness. At least for now. Whateverhe planned to unlock required more than just her presence. It required her participation, her intent, her choice to engage with the systems that responded to her touch.
Which meant she had leverage. Not much, but enough.
“I need to speak with them.” She kept her voice flat, emotionless. “Alone. Five minutes. Then we can discuss terms.”
Vask’s eyebrows rose—a deliberate expression, performed rather than felt. “You think you’re in a position to make demands?”
“I think you need something from me that you can’t take by force. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be talking—you’d be extracting.” She met his gaze without flinching. “Five minutes. Prove you’re capable of good faith.”
The silence stretched. Behind her, Elsa could feel Ari’s attention sharpen, could hear Mia’s breath catch in her throat. The guards shifted, waiting for orders, their claws scraping against the stone floor in unconscious tells of anticipation.
Finally, Vask stepped aside.
“Two minutes,” he said. “And I’ll be watching.”
Elsa dropped to her knees beside Rowan and Milo, her bound hands reaching for them despite the rope cutting into her wrists. Up close, the damage was worse than she’d seen from a distance. Rowan’s breathing had a wet quality that suggested cracked ribs. Milo’s fingernails were black—burnt or infection, impossible to tell without proper light.
She leaned in, dropping her voice to barely a whisper. “Listen to me. Both of you. There isn’t time to explain everything, but—”
“We know.” Rowan’s whisper was even softer, meant for her ears only. “The pit workers talk. Something’s coming. Guards have been nervous for days.”
“Something’s coming,” she confirmed. “When it happens—when you hear the second alarm—move. Not the first one. Thesecond. That’s when the routes will be clear. Head toward the eastern conduits. There’ll be—”
“Second alarm. Eastern conduits.” Milo’s voice was barely audible, his eyes fixed on hers with desperate intensity. “We can do that. The engineering crews work those passages. Rowan knows them.”