"I just need time."
She left before he could say anything else. Before the look on his face could convince her to stay.
LIII.
BRYNN
Days had passed since she'd walked out of Dante's chambers, and Brynn had perfected the art of avoiding him entirely.
The library had become her sanctuary. Volumes on ancient magic, death realm history, and the souls who'd built the barriers between worlds. She'd devoured them all, searching for anything about who she supposedly was, though the books on the ward architects were frustratingly scarce.
Now she sat at her dressing table while Naia worked behind her, the servant's deft fingers arranging her hair into something elegant. Brynn could see the exhaustion in her own eyes. Too many restless nights, too many hours reading until the words blurred together. Too many dreams where he reached for her and she let him.
She hated those dreams most of all.
"You've been spending an awful lot of time in that library," Naia observed, her voice carrying that teasing tone she used when she wanted to pry without seeming to pry. "Find anything interesting in all those dusty tomes?"
"Research," Brynn said. "I wanted to understand what I apparently am."
"And do you? Understand, I mean?"
Brynn met Naia's eyes in the glass. "I understand that everyoneknew more about my identity than I did. Including him." She paused, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. "I understand that my parents were murdered because of what I am. That my entire life has been shaped by something I never knew about."
She stopped herself, blinking back the tears that threatened.
Before Naia could respond, a firm knock echoed through the chamber.
They both went still. Brynn's servants always announced themselves with gentle taps and deferential voices. This knock held authority that made her stomach tighten with recognition.
She knew that knock. Had heard it outside her door every morning for the past couple of days, followed by his voice asking if she was well, if she needed anything, if she would please talk to him.
She'd ignored him every time. And every time, she'd pressed her hand to her chest afterward, trying to push down the ache that bloomed there at the sound of him walking away.
"Brynn," came Dante's voice through the door, formal after days of silence between them. "I need to speak with you."
Her hands clenched in her lap.
"I'm not dressed for receiving visitors," she called back.
"This concerns court business. It's urgent."
Court business. Of course. Not an apology. Not an explanation. Another decision made, another announcement delivered. Another thing he'd decided she needed to know only when it suited him.
The pattern was exhausting.
Naia raised an eyebrow at Brynn's reflection, clearly sensing the tension crackling in the air. After a moment, Brynn nodded toward the door, her jaw tight.
If he wanted to play this formally, she could do that.
"Very well. Come in."
The door opened, and Dante stepped inside.
The sight of him caught her off guard.
Dark circles under his eyes, hair disheveled as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid beneath his dark clothing. He looked like he hadn't slept since their confrontation. Like he'd been holding himselftogether through sheer force of will, and the seams were starting to show.
Her heart clenched at the sight, and she hated it. Her body swayed toward him before she caught herself. Even now, even after everything, some part of her still wanted to go to him. Smooth the lines from his face. Let him hold her until the world made sense again.
