Before he could press further, the golden one stepped forward.
Actually steppedforward, 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. Tothinkinstead 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.” Heshrugged. “Yarx is overworked dealing with my Knights’ injuries from battling The Fallen. Another pair of hands wouldn’t hurt.”
Sylas weighed the option. Yarxwasoverworked. 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.”