Not what she wanted to hear. But apparently, all he was capable of giving.
"I'll be there."
She turned back toward the door, refusing to let him see how much his distance actually hurt.
XLIII.
BRYNN
Brynn studied the intricate patterns carved into the stone floor, tracing the way death magic had been woven into every line and curve. Easier to focus without him here. Without that current of power that followed him everywhere.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.
She didn't need to look up to know he'd arrived. The shadows in the room responded instantly, deepening and shifting toward him like they were drawn to their master. The temperature dropped. The air seemed to tighten.
Her pulse jumped anyway.
"Ready?" he asked, his tone clipped.
She looked away before her eyes could linger. She'd done enough of that in the study.
"Yes," she replied, stepping into the circle's center. Her voice came out steadier than she felt.
He joined her, maintaining distance even in the confined space. His shadows wrapped around both their feet, creating the boundary that would hold them together during transport while keeping them safely apart.
Always apart. Always that same measured distance.
She bit back the word she wanted to throw at him. He didn't deserve the satisfaction of knowing how much his silence cost her.
"Thessa's domain operates on different principles than the other courts," he said as power began building around them. "Time moves strangely there. Hours can pass in minutes, or minutes can stretch for what feels like days. Don't trust your internal sense of duration."
"Noted." She didn't trust herself to say more without the frustration bleeding through.
The circle flared, and reality dissolved around them in a rush of cold and darkness. For a moment that lasted both forever and no time at all, they existed in the space between realms—suspended in possibility, surrounded by whispers in languages that predated speech.
She was acutely aware of his presence beside her. Even in the void between worlds, she could feel him. The weight of his power, the tension in his body, the measured inches he maintained between them.
Then the world reformed, and her breath caught.
They stood in a city that looked like a nightmare and an elegant dream. Tall, narrow buildings with elaborate stonework stretched into fog so thick it seemed solid, their steep-pitched roofs disappearing into perpetual mist. Wrought iron balconies hung like frozen lace from every window, and gas lamps flickered with fire.
The cobblestone street beneath their feet gleamed like polished bone. Every footstep echoed with sounds that didn't belong to anyone visible, and the air felt thin and cold, making each breath a conscious effort.
But it was the scent that hit her first. Old flowers mixed with something that reminded her of libraries where books slowly crumbled to dust. The smell of things preserved long past their natural time.
"Stay close."
Two words. Low and rough and edged with authority that expected obedience.
Her body responded before her mind could override it. Shoulderssquaring, breath catching, want flickering to life in her chest, no matter how she tried to smother it.
Not this again.
His shadows spread outward, creating a visible barrier around them both.
"The spirits here aren't malicious," he continued, "but they're persistent. They may try to draw you into their unfinished business."
She could see them now. Translucent figures in clothing from every era moving through the streets. Their movements had a hypnotic, repetitive quality that made her want to follow their patterns.
