The Lux Saber stopped before a door—actual wood, dark and heavy, bound with iron that gleamed dull in the blue light. She pressed one clawed hand against the surface. Something clicked.Ancient mechanisms responding to her touch, or maybe her scent. The door swung inward on silent hinges.
“Inside.”
Not a request.
Elsa stepped through, and warmth hit her like a physical force.
The chamber was smaller than she’d expected. Carved from the same volcanic rock but smoothed, almost polished, the walls radiating heat that seeped into her frozen bones. A low bed dominated one corner, piled with furs that looked thick and soft and utterly foreign. Not synthetic. Not manufactured. Actual pelts from creatures she’d never seen.
A basin sat near the far wall, steam rising from water that shouldn’t be hot but was. How? Geothermal vents? Technology she didn’t recognize?
The Lux Saber gestured toward the basin. “Wash.”
Elsa’s jaw tightened. “I can manage on my own.”
“Not with those.” The guard nodded at the cuffs still binding Elsa’s wrists. She stepped closer, claws working the mechanism with practiced efficiency. The metal fell away, clattering against stone.
Blood rushed back into Elsa’s hands, bringing pins and needles with it. She rubbed her wrists, feeling the indentations the cuffs had left, the raw skin beneath.
Free. Sort of.
“Wash,” the Lux Saber repeated, settling onto a low stool near the door. “I’ll wait.”
Of course she would. Because this wasn’t freedom. This was supervised captivity dressed up as hospitality.
Elsa moved to the basin, her ruined gown dragging against stone. The water’s heat rose in waves, fogging the air between her and the surface. She dipped her fingers in. Scalding. But not unbearably so.
She glanced back at the guard, who watched with the patience of a predator who knew her prey had nowhere to run.
Fine.
Elsa stripped the gown off, letting the torn white fabric pool at her feet. Underneath, she wore the thin undergarments from the wedding—useless scraps of lace that hadn’t been designed for survival. She left them on. The guard could judge all she wanted.
The water burned when Elsa submerged her hands, then her arms, scrubbing away ash and blood and the lingering smell of smoke. It hurt. Good. Pain meant she was still alive, still feeling, stillhereinstead of lost in whatever nightmare logic had brought her to this impossible place.
She washed quickly, efficiently, ignoring the way her skin prickled under the guard’s unblinking stare. Cleaned the worst of the grime from her face, her neck, her shoulders where bruises had darkened into ugly purple-black clouds.
When she finished, a bundle of fabric waited on the bed. The Lux Saber must have placed it there while Elsa wasn’t looking.
“Dress.”
The garment was simple—a shift made from material that felt like wool but softer, dyed a deep gray that reminded Elsa of storm clouds. It fell to mid-thigh when she pulled it on, the fabric loose enough to allow movement but fitted enough to stay in place.
No shoes. No stockings. Just bare feet against warm stone.
The Lux Saber stood. “Come.”
They left the basin, moved to a small table Elsa hadn’t noticed before. A tray sat there, laden with food that steamed in the cool air.
Meat. Bread. Something that might be fruit, though the colors were wrong—too vibrant, too alien. A cup of liquid that smelled sharp and herbal.
Elsa’s stomach clenched. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Before the crash, probably. Before everything went to hell.
“Eat.”
She sat on the stool the guard indicated, eyeing the food with suspicion. “What is it?”
“Sustenance.” The Lux Saber’s tone suggested this should be obvious. “The Alpha King doesn’t starve his property.”