“You’re brooding.”
Her voice came sleep-rough, barely above a whisper. Sylas turned to find her watching him through half-lidded eyes, still cocooned in furs but awake.
“I’m thinking.”
“Same thing, with you.” She pushed herself upright slowly, the movement still careful despite three days of recovery. “The council met this morning.”
“Yes.”
Concern flooded her face as her gaze raked over him. “Bad?”
He considered lying. Considered softening the truth into something more palatable. “Xar wants you studied by priests. Vask supported him. They know you sleep here, in my chambers.”
Her expression didn’t change. “And that’s a problem.”
“It feeds their argument. That you’re more than a pet. That I’m hiding something by keeping you in my personal space instead of the Luna’s quarters.”
“Are you?”
The question cut deeper than it should. Because the answer was yes—he was hiding something. The way her scent quieted his beast. The way her presence stabilized the Moon Tear energy that would eventually destroy him. The way he’d started thinking of her ashisin ways that had nothing to do with ownership.
“I’m protecting you.” The deflection came out rough. “The Luna’s chambers are too far from the medical bay. Too accessible to anyone who wants to make a point about my judgment.”
“And your chambers aren’t?”
“My chambers open only for me.” He moved toward the bed, drawn despite his better judgment. “No one enters without permission. No one leaves without my knowledge. You’re safer here than anywhere else in this fortress.”
She studied him with those too-sharp eyes. Cataloguing. Calculating. Seeing things he’d rather keep hidden.
“That’s not the only reason.”
No. It wasn’t.
He stopped at the edge of the bed, close enough to touch but holding himself back. “The Lux Priest believes you’re divinely marked. That Lux herself sent you here for reasons we don’t understand.” His voice dropped. “If that’s true—if you’re some kind of blessing or test or whatever the old male thinks—then keeping you close isn’t just preference. It’s obligation.”
“Divine obligation.” Her tone carried something he couldn’t identify. “That’s a convenient excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse. It’s—” He stopped. Started again. “Elsa. The males on that council would tear you apart to prove a point.Xar thinks you should be dissected for religious enlightenment. Vask would hand you over without a second thought if it destabilized my rule.” His claws flexed against his thigh. “I’m the only thing standing between you and creatures who see you as a resource to be exploited.”
“So I should be grateful.” Not a question. “For my comfortable cage.”
“You should be alive.” The correction came out fierce. “Which you won’t be if I let them take you.”
She held his gaze for a long moment. Then something shifted in her expression—not quite softening, but...acknowledging. The reality of her situation. The truth of what he was saying.
“The restrictions,” she said quietly. “Xar and Vask will want proof that I’m controlled. That keeping me here doesn’t mean you’ve lost perspective.”
She’d been listening. Or thinking. Or both.
“Yes.” Sylas settled onto the edge of the bed, the furs dipping beneath his weight. “Tomorrow, at the evening court. Public demonstration of ownership. The kind of display that leaves no room for questions about my judgment.”
“What kind of display?”
“A collar.” He watched her face, tracking every micro-expression. “Visible proof that you’re claimed. Property. Not a threat to the natural order.”
Her fingers curled into the furs. Tension radiated through her frame—the same defiance he’d seen when she’d refused the bracer, when she’d demanded answers instead of accepting captivity.
But she didn’t refuse. Didn’t argue.