LYSANDER
"If she's the real deal," he said slowly, "if Gabriel's proof holds up and she really is a product of fleshcraft, then she'll need to be acquired. Covertly, of course. We can't have Skollrend or the royals catching wind of it."
Acquired.
The word sat in my chest like a stone.
"You mean kidnapped," I said.
"I mean secured." His tone didn't change. "She's valuable, Lysander. More valuable than you realize. If what Gabriel says is true, she's not just some failed experiment. She's proof. Living, breathing proof of something the elite supernaturals have spent decades trying to ignore."
I felt my hands curl into fists at my sides.
"And what happens to her after you secure her?" I asked.
"That depends." He turned back toward his desk and picked up the photograph again. "If she's cooperative, if she understands her position, then she'll be treated well. Kept safe. Protected, even."
"In a cage."
He glanced at me. "If that's what it takes."
I looked away.
