Kershov patiently waited for the pastel bird to roll from her spine, catching her soft, tentative words with alertly pricked auds. She had a rather quiet voice. Although it delighted the moon-bleached monster when he managed to strike visceral fear into others with a mere glance, he distantly worried about the poor lass’s resolution. Ker hoped she wasn’t another one of those flakey fighters: the ones that showed up to Abendrot with only a wisp of hope, thinking that maybe they could make the cut, maybe cultivate the hardened strength it took to survive and thrive in a military setting. Those didn’t stick around long. They never stuck around at all, actually. Kershov had little time or use for the useless. “That is a fair reason,” the ivory Alpha conceded to Ivev’s honest reply. “So long as you can pull your weight, I see no cause for turning you away.”

She flinched from him. Barely. Honestly, it was amusing—but Ker couldn’t have his subjects cringing every time he walked by, could he? That’s what lowly prisoners did. It was all the massive monster could do to prevent himself from rolling his fathomless onyx eyes and sighing, as if greatly jaded by the trepidation of others. Dear young thing. Kershov’s underwhelmed opinion threatened to overwhelm him until Ivev smartly spoke up and finally stated her true talent. Suddenly, Kershov wanted nothing more than to have this particular treasure within his borders. For a brief, delirious moment, the Pharaoh almost felt willing to bend over backwards just to ensure that Ivev felt nothing but plush, fluffy safety every time she laid those brilliant blues on him. Fortunately, the moment didn’t last long. Ker would assimilate Ivev into the pack whether she ended up wanting to stay or not.

A clever shark’s grin pulled the velvet curtain on the handsome half of Kershov’s maw. “Is that all?” he teased. “You’re not being bold so much as simply stating the obvious, Madame Ivev. We’re an army—of course we have wounds. What I want to know is if you are a healer. It is very fine and wonderful to merely alleviate injuries and such, but even I can do that. You might be surprised to hear how very alleviating a quick slash to the throat can feel when a wound is bad enough.” The Frost Czar was baiting her, clearly. He did not truly doubt her capabilities—he just wanted to hear her defend herself.