The escape vessel had carried something valuable. Something they wanted. Something that might be leverage if she could figure out how to use it.
She turned, really looking at the chamber for the first time since Sylas had left.
The space was larger than she’d initially registered, her panic narrowing her focus to immediate threats. Now, with no guards watching, no Alpha King circling, she could see the details.
The bed wasn’t just functional—it was luxurious. Carved from dark wood that looked ancient, polished smooth by time and use. The furs piled on top weren’t random pelts but carefully arranged layers, each one softer than the last. White and gray and deep brown, thick enough to sink into.
A bed fit for royalty.
Tapestries hung on two walls, woven from threads that caught the blue light and shimmered like starlight. The patterns were abstract—swirling designs that might be constellations or might be purely decorative. Beautiful, either way.
The basin sat in an alcove, surrounded by shelves holding bottles and jars she didn’t recognize. Oils, maybe. Soaps. Things meant for care, for grooming, for comfort.
A low table near the window held books—actual physical books, their spines worn with use. The window itself was larger than the one in the medical bay, offering a view of the fortress courtyard below and the alien sky beyond.
This wasn’t a prison cell.
This was someone’s private chamber. Someone important.
Elsa’s stomach twisted. Had they displaced someone to make room for her? Kicked out a guard or advisor or—
No. The room feltprepared. Fresh furs. Full basin. New clothing laid out perfectly. This space had been waiting.
But for whom?
The answer settled over her like ice water.
For the Luna. For the Alpha King’s mate.
This was the Luna’s nest. The chamber meant for whoever would stand beside Sylas, bear his children, rule at his side.
And he’d put her here.
Elsa pressed her hands against her face, breathing hard through her fingers.
Pet. He’d called her a pet. Said he’d pamper her, treasure her, treat her as the prize she was.
But this room told a different story.
Pets lived in cages. Slept on cushions at their master’s feet. Wore collars and answered to commands.
This room was for a queen.
Which meant Sylas saw her as something more than a pet. Or something worse. A replacement for what he didn’t have. A placeholder for the mate he’d never claimed.
The implications made her skin crawl.
What did being a petreallymean here? What would he expect from her? Obedience, obviously. Compliance. But what else? Her mind skittered away from the possibilities, from images of Ryxin’s casual mention of his “pet” warming his nest.
Elsa wrapped her arms around herself, the soft shift doing nothing to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with temperature.
She was alone. Completely alone in a room designed for intimacy, for comfort, for a future she hadn’t chosen.
Why had Sylas left her here until tomorrow? Why not lock her in a cell, keep her under guard, treat her like the prisoner she was?
The answer whispered through her mind, cold and certain.
Because he didn’t need to.