The look on her face when she'd understood about her parents. The way she'd needed comfort and he'd given her ward construction.
Pathetic.
His shadows shifted restlessly around his feet, straining toward the door. Toward where she'd gone. He yanked them back, but they fought him, responding to wants he refused to acknowledge.
He could still smell her. Sunshine and citrus. It didn't belong here. Neither did she. His body remembered how close she'd been. How easy it would have been to close the distance instead of widening it.
There's nothing happening between us beyond the investigation.
The lie tasted like poison even in memory.
He moved to the window, looking out over his domain. The twilight seemed heavier tonight, the aurora less vibrant. Even the realm was responding to his turmoil.
He'd finally said it—finally admitted the fear that drove everyretreat. And instead of understanding the danger, she'd looked at him like he was breaking her heart.
Maybe he was.
You're already caught in your own pattern. Unable to move forward, unable to let go.
His hands clenched on the windowsill hard enough that the stone cracked beneath his grip.
She was right. That was the worst of it. She'd seen exactly what he was doing and refused to let him hide from it.
A soft knock interrupted his spiral. He didn't turn around.
"Enter."
Lord Aldric materialized from the shadows. The Bone Knight, who had served as his captain for multiple ages. One of the few bound souls who had earned something approaching trust.
"My lord. There are instabilities throughout the domain." Aldric's hollow voice carried concern. "The ward-keepers report fluctuations. Souls experiencing unusual dreams. The borders with adjacent realms showing weakness."
When a Death Lord's control slipped, the realm felt it.
"And the Weeping Marshes have gone silent," Aldric continued. "The souls there have stopped their mourning for the first time in recorded history."
Dante's jaw tightened. His personal crisis was destabilizing the entire domain. The souls felt his turmoil and responded, their eternal torments disrupted by his loss of control.
"Have the ward-keepers check all boundary stones. Anyone experiencing unusual phenomena should report immediately."
"Yes, my lord." Aldric hesitated. "Should we postpone tomorrow's diplomatic visit?"
"No." The word came out sharp. "Tomorrow proceeds as planned."
Aldric bowed and faded back into the shadows, but not before Dante caught the knowing look in his eyes.
Alone again.
He returned to his desk, forcing himself to focus on tomorrow's visit to the Mourned Court. After Seraphina's hostility, Caelum's gentle nature should feel like a reprieve.
The thought of taking her into any Death Lord's domain still sent a ripple of unrest through his realm.
He tried to settle into his usual meditative state. But his mind kept returning to the corridor. To the moment she'd stepped toward him, voice breaking, asking him to try.
And he'd retreated. Again.
His shadows slipped their leash, creeping toward the door before he caught them and forced them back. They wanted her. His power wanted her. Some fundamental part of him pointed toward that door like a compass needle seeking north.
A week since the garden. A week since she'd stood before him with her hand outstretched, reaching for his face, telling him he wouldn't hurt her. Telling him to trust himself.
