No.She forced herself to stay seated, fingers digging into her palms.
His dark eyes found hers, and want flickered in their depths. Regret. A desperate hunger that made her pulse jump through her fury.
Then he looked away, and his expression shuttered.
"Lord Caelum has called for a Gathering of Souls," he said, his voice neutral. Like they were strangers discussing business instead of two people who'd touched each other's faces and whispered confessions in the dark. "Tomorrow evening. All the Death Lords will attend, along with their courts. He believes a show of unity will help stabilize the political situation after the recent unrest."
Brynn studied him, taking in the rigid posture. His shadows shifted restlessly at his feet, straining toward her before he yanked them back.
"I see," she said coolly. "And my attendance is required?"
"As my..." He paused.
The silence stretched. Part of his court. His tribute. His partner.
None of those words fit anymore. They both knew it.
His hand came up to rub the back of his neck—the same gesture she'd seen in his chambers, when he'd been trying to hold himself together. He caught himself doing it and dropped his arm, but not before she noticed.
"Your presence would be expected."
Not as his partner. Not as someone important to him. Not even as his tribute.
Just... expected. Like any other courtier.
The dismissal stung more than it should have. And underneath the sting, the hurt grew teeth.
He'd kept her identity secret. Her parents' murder. Everything about who she was. And now he couldn't even bring himself to claim her publicly. To acknowledge what she meant to him in front of others.
"Then I'll attend," she replied, keeping her voice as neutral as his. She could feel Naia watching them both with fascination. "Whatever is required."
"The gathering begins at sunset. I'll send word about the arrangements."
"Fine."
For a moment, he lingered in the doorway. His dark eyes met hers again, and she watched his control waver, saw the raw ache beneath the mask. His hands clenched at his sides. His shadows strained toward her one more time, desperate tendrils reaching across the floor.
His mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to say something. Something real. Something that mattered.
Say it. She stared at him, willing the words out of him. Say something that isn't court business or duty or decisions you've already made without me.
Then the moment passed.
He pulled back. Straightened his shoulders. Rebuilt the walls she'd watched crumble just seconds before.
"Thank you," he said quietly, and left without another word.
The door closed behind him with a click that sounded like defeat.
The silence that followed felt thick. Brynn realized she'd been holding her breath and forced herself to exhale slowly. Her pulse was still racing, her body still warm from just being in the same room as him.
Hells, she was predictable. And furious about it.
Naia turned to look at Brynn with genuine curiosity.
"Well," Naia said finally, her translucent form settling onto the chair beside the dressing table. "What did you do to him? He looks absolutely dreadful."
"I didn't do anything to him," Brynn replied, though the words felt hollow even to her own ears. "He did it to himself."
