“Apet?” Sylas repeated, struggling to process the concept.
Other species kept pets—companions, hunting animals, creatures bred for specific purposes. But this? A human? One of the weak aliens who’d desecrated their Holy Land?
He tilted his head, studying the two females again with fresh eyes.
The one in red sniffled, barely holding back another sob. The golden one remained upright, her bound hands clenched into fists despite the futility of the gesture.
Sylas growled low in his throat.
He could see why Ryxin might take one in. A pet could be useful—a symbol of power, proof of dominance, even a source of loyalty if properly trained. The novelty alone would make certain statements in court.
But the idea of such fragile creatures in his care made his hackles rise. They’d require constant supervision. Protection. Resources.
Still. The idea intrigued him.
The golden one, at least, had a spark. She’d keep things interesting. The other would likely give him nothing but headaches with her endless weeping.
Perhaps keeping one alive wouldn’t be so terrible after all.
Sylas stood from his throne with practiced grace, each movement deliberate. His claws scraped against stone, the sound echoing through the chamber as he descended from the dais. Around him, his Lux Knights straightened further, postures rigid in acknowledgment of his proximity.
Power rippled through the room like a tangible force.
The two females stood frozen. Their bodies trembled—good. At least they possessed enough intelligence to recognize a predator when they saw one.
He stopped directly in front of them, towering over their pathetically small frames. Even the golden one barely reached his chest. How did creatures this size survive anything?
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 suggestedprison. 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?”