Alex t the beast’s gaze, her humanoid form coiled elegantly in the throne of crimson feathers. Her presence alone carried weight—authority pressed into every inch of her posture, every flicker of firelight reflecting in her eyes. But her question? That was sothing else.
Her tone had been even, almost playful. But the weight behind it wasn’t lost on him.
"Why is a Legend-rank beast traveling with a human?"
Alex didn’t answer.
Not imdiately. Not at all.
His eyes remained fixed on her, a mask of mystery that revealed nothing. Since the fall of his clan, he had borne witness to countless horrors—monsters that lurked in the shadows, and murderers adorned in shimring gold.
Yet Aetheria stood apart. She wore her majesty like a blazing fla, radiating an unquenchable intensity that drew in both awe and trepidation. It was as if she did not rely demand respect; she exuded a palpable disdain for anything she deed beneath her.
Especially him.
She didn’t bother to conceal her contempt; it flickered in her expression like a candle at the rcy of a gust.
There was a fleeting twitch at the corner of her lip whenever her gaze swept across him—brief yet unmistakable. Her eyes lit up with a spark of fascination when they landed on Nyxara, a glimr of admiration shining through.
But when Aetheria’s gaze shifted back to him, the warmth vanished. In its place, her deanor cooled, turning icy and cutting, as if sharpening into a blade ant to slice through the air between them.
Alex understood.
It was the bond.
To beasts like her, it was a perversion. A violation of ancient law. For a human to bond with a Legend-class beast... it was akin to a mortal branding a deity.
No wonder she hated him.
And Alex was certain—if Nyxara had been anything less than equal in rank, Aetheria would’ve already tried to kill him where he stood. He could see it in the tension in her jaw. In the faint ripple of heat that passed through the throne like an instinctive reaction, she barely reined in.
But she didn’t move.
Neither did he.
And neither, it seed, would Nyxara.
The tigress remained curled at his side, unbothered. She hadn’t spoken, but Alex could feel her amusent humming through their link. She was doing this on purpose. Letting the silence stretch. Letting Aetheria stew in it. Because to Nyxara, silence was funnier than defiance.
Seconds passed. The air grew heavier.
Aetheria’s gaze lingered, then slowly narrowed.
"...I see," she said quietly, shifting slightly in her throne. Her voice was velvet and ash. "It seems I directed my question to the wrong person."
She was still looking at Alex. Her words, though aid at Nyxara, were laced with challenge.
Alex didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Didn’t answer.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Not because of fear, but because the weight of power in the room was being pulled taut like a thread wrapped around a blade.
Then, suddenly, the tension snapped—not with violence, but with a cough.
Aetheria turned her head slightly and gave a soft, elegant laugh, like soone brushing away an awkward mont at a royal banquet.
"Forgive ," she said, folding one leg over the other and resting her arm against the back of her throne. "Where are my manners?"
She inclined her head slightly in a gesture that mimicked politeness, though it lacked warmth.
"My na is Aetheria," she said, voice regal. "The Empress of the Beasts in Europe."
She let the title settle like a crown falling onto stone.
Then her gaze turned back to Alex.
"And who might you be?"
Alex stared back at her, unmoved. He studied her for several heartbeats—long enough for her disdain to deepen, to show more openly in her features. She was already regretting offering civility. The disgust was no longer hidden.
He sighed quietly, his fingers tapping once against his knee before he finally opened his mouth—
"...Alex," he said at last. "And the little tigress beside is Nyxara. My beast companion."
The words weren’t loud, nor were they dramatic. But in the silence that followed, they may as well have been thunder.
Aetheria didn’t respond—not with words.
But her body did.
The air warped.
A heatwave pulsed through the room, sharp and sudden, like the breath of an angry sun. The walls themselves seed to flinch, and the red-feathered throne beneath her shimred briefly, its enchantnts responding automatically to the shift in her power.
Her hands clenched the armrest, only for a mont, before she exhaled—and the heat receded, drawn back into her body like a curtain being closed over a wildfire.
Alex had expected it. In fact, he’d provoked it.
He could have left the title out. On any other day, he would have. Simply calling Nyxara by na would’ve been enough. But this ti... he wanted to see her reaction.
And she didn’t disappoint.
She hated it.
That single phrase—"beast companion"—was like acid poured on royal silk.
Alex watched her with unreadable calm, but inside, his instincts were alert. Ready. He wasn’t a fool. He knew what she was and what she could do. There was no arrogance in him when it ca to the difference in power. But provoking her gave him insight. Her emotions, however, buried in etiquette, betrayed her weaknesses. Her pride. Her boundaries.
She didn’t speak right away.
Her fingers flexed against the throne, and her eyes—those golden, ancient eyes—narrowed with sothing deeper than disgust. It was revulsion. As if rely acknowledging Nyxara’s bond with a human was an insult to her existence.
The silence grew again. But it wasn’t awkward this ti—it was sharp. Tense. The room was still, but charged, like air just before a lightning strike.
And Alex didn’t look away.
He t her gaze as if he were the one sitting on a throne.
Behind him, Nyxara purred softly, amused, unfazed, her tail flicking in lazy satisfaction. To her, this was a ga.
To Alex, it was a test.
And to Aetheria?
It was a war with her restraint.
Reviews
All reviews (0)