Silence crashed through the chamber.
Xar’s green eyes narrowed, but he dipped his head. “Of course, my king. I meant no disrespect.”
Liar.
But the moment had passed. The direct challenge retreated, leaving only the tension of what hadn’t been said. What would be said later, in private chambers and shadowed corridors where treason wore the face of concern.
“If there are no other matters—” Sylas began.
“One more.” The Lux Priest’s voice cut through, quieter than the political sparring but somehow more insistent. “If I may speak with my king privately. Regarding the spiritual implications of the core’s installation.”
The request was unusual. Public council sessions didn’t typically end with private spiritual consultations.
But something in the priest’s amber eyes made Sylas pause. Something that looked almost like warning.
“The rest of you are dismissed.” Sylas straightened, releasing the cracked obsidian beneath his claws. “Ryxin, ensure the patrol schedules are updated to reflect the grid’s new coverage areas. Xar—I want a full report on Fallen activity in the eastern quadrant by nightfall.”
Assignments that would keep them both busy. That would put distance between himself and the males who’d just tried to take what was his.
The council filed out. Vask lingered, his gaze too sharp, too calculating. Xar paused at the doorway, looking back with an expression Sylas couldn’t read.
I’ll deal with you later.The promise was silent but certain.
When only the Lux Priest remained, the old male moved closer, his movements careful despite his age. He waited until the heavy doors had sealed before speaking.
“You handled that well.”
“I handled it.” Sylas dropped into his seat at the table’s head, suddenly exhausted. “Whether ‘well’ applies remains to be seen.”
“Xar grows bolder. He’s gathering support among the faithful—those who believe the Blood Moon should bring a challenge, regardless of your strength.”
“Let him gather.” Sylas’s claws tapped against stone. “He’s not strong enough to challenge me directly, and any male he sponsors will face the same fate as the last three who tried.”
“Perhaps.” The priest settled onto a bench, his white fur seeming to glow in the pale light. “But the argument about Lux’s blessing...that carries weight, my king. More than you may realize.”
“The human carries a pleasant scent. That doesn’t make her divine.”
“Doesn’t it?” The priest’s amber eyes met his. “The Frosted Tears are sacred to our people. They bloom only during the Mother Moon’s closest approach—a time of fertility, of abundance, of Lux’s direct attention to our world. A human carrying that scent...” He trailed off, searching for words. “It’s unprecedented.”
“Many things about this situation are unprecedented.”
“Yes. Including her ability to handle the core.” The priest leaned forward, his voice dropping. “My king, I’ve studied Moon Tear interactions for sixty years. I’ve seen what happens when our own males handle unshielded crystals—the madness, the deterioration, the eventual loss of self. That human female held a core of unprecedented purity for nearly a full minute.”
“And collapsed.”
“Andsurvived.” The distinction seemed to matter deeply to the old male. “Her neural pathways overloaded, yes. But she recovered. No Fallen symptoms. No signs of the contamination that should have killed her or driven her to madness.”
Sylas processed this. He’d known Elsa’s survival was unusual—had seen Yarx’s confusion, had felt his own relief when she’d woken without the empty eyes of the Fallen.
He hadn’t considered what itmeant.
“What are you saying?”
The Lux Priest was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of decades spent interpreting divine will.
“Lux marks don’t happen by accident, my king. The scent. The survival. The way the core responded to her presence during retrieval—my engineers reported the crystalreachedfor her. Amplified its output the moment she touched it, as if recognizing something.”
“Recognizing what?”