She was here. In his space. Eating food he’d provided. The bond hummed between them, steady and present, and for a moment he could pretend that was enough.
“You’re watching me eat.” Her voice carried dry amusement. “Is this a cultural thing I should know about?”
“I’m ensuring you consume adequate nutrition.” The excuse sounded weak even to his own ears. “You’re still recovering from the ceremony’s effects.”
“I feel fine.” She selected a piece of the glazed meat, and he tracked the movement with more attention than it warranted. “Better than fine, actually. The headaches are gone. Whatever Yarx did to stabilize the neural pathways seems to be holding.”
Yarx. Another male who’d touched her. Healed her. Given her something she needed.
Sylas stilled. His claws sank into the cushions beneath him, puncturing deep as he forced the surge of rage down, burying it where it couldn’t reach her. The growl clawed at his throat anyway—low, violent, meant for the males who had dared lay hands on what was his.
Not for her. Never for her.
“The council meets this afternoon.” He forced his attention back to practical matters, selecting meat and root vegetables with deliberate precision. “There will be...discussions. About the ceremony. About you.”
“About my usefulness, you mean.” She didn’t look up from her plate. “Or my threat level. Depending on who’s talking.”
“Both.” He saw no point in softening it. She deserved the truth, even when it cut. “Vask has been circling the same accusation for days. That you’re leverage I can’t afford to hold. That you’ve compromised my position.”
Her fork paused. “Have I?”
The question hung between them, heavy with implications neither of them was ready to name.
Sylas thought about the grid display in his study—those endless red markers he should have been monitoring instead of waiting outside the infirmary wing. Thought about the doubled patrols he’d ordered that morning, the “coincidental” rotations that just happened to pass by every corridor she might explore. Thought about the way his heartbeat had spiked the moment she’d emerged with that new confidence in her eyes.
Thought about the way he’d positioned himself at that junction, pretending it was coincidence, when they both knew better.
“Not in the way they mean,” he said finally.
She held his gaze for a long moment. The firelight caught the blue of her eyes, made them look almost luminous. Something flickered in her expression—understanding, maybe, or the first crack in the careful neutrality she’d been maintaining.
“And in other ways?”
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The truth sat on his tongue like a blade, and he wasn’t ready to let it draw blood.
You’ve become the center of everything. The first thought when I wake. The last before I sleep. The constant pulse at the edge of my awareness that tells me you’re alive, you’re safe, you’re mine.
And I don’t know how to stop it. Don’t know if I want to.
Instead, he sighed, holding her gaze. “The political situation is...complex.”
“You mean dangerous.” She set down her fork, giving him her full attention. “Mia mentioned that Yarx has been worried. Something about faction movements. Increased activity in the lower levels.”
Yarx again. Sharing information with humans who shared it with his mate. Building connections and trust that had nothing to do with Sylas.
“The healer should focus on his patients.” The words came out sharper than intended. “Not on political analysis.”
Elsa’s expression cooled. “He’s trying to help. They all are. That’s what people do when they—” She stopped herself, but he heard the rest anyway.
When they care about each other.
The jealousy coiled tighter.
They finished the meal in silence, the weight of unspoken things pressing against the air between them. Sylas rose first, gathering his thoughts for the council session ahead. He would need every ounce of control he possessed to face Vask’s insinuations without violence. To play the political games thatkept his throne secure while his enemies circled closer with every passing day.
“Stay in the chambers while I’m gone.” He paused at the door, not quite looking at her. “The Sabers outside will see to anything you need.”
“And if I want to walk the corridors? Visit the library? Return to the infirmary wing?”