His shadows wound tighter, responding to the anger building in his chest.
"They'll wait." The words came out cold enough to make the knight step back. "I'll deal with them when I'm ready."
But even as he said it, he knew that wasn't an option. If he made them wait, their anger would only build. And they'd take it out on Brynn when they finally faced them.
The floor shuddered beneath his feet. He felt it through his connection to the realm, another ward-stone failing in the Weeping Marshes.
His gaze moved toward his chambers. She needed to face them. Needed to be part of stopping this. Keeping her away would only feed her guilt.
He moved toward his chambers, shadows reaching ahead. They slipped under the door, gentle tendrils wrapping around her to check, to confirm, to reassure himself that she was there and safe.
She was awake when he entered.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, her injured wrists resting in her lap. She looked up at him with weary eyes that held too much guilt.
"The other Death Lords are here." No point in softening it. "Emergency council. They've discovered their soul-flow has stopped."
She stood immediately, like she'd been expecting this. Her balance faltered, and she caught herself against the bedpost with wounded wrists.
His shadows were there before she could fall, settling around her waist. She leaned into them for a moment, and satisfaction pulsed through him at her trust.
Then she forced herself upright.
"They're going to blame me."
"They're going to try." The words came out like a growl before he could control them. "I won't let them."
"Dante, I opened that gateway." Her voice wavered. "I gave Caelum exactly what he needed to?—"
"Caelum manipulated you." He moved closer, unable to stay away when she looked like that. His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing across her cheekbone. "Set a trap specifically designed to use your bloodline against you. You were trying to save us. What happened wasn't your fault."
"Then whose fault is it?" Her voice broke completely. "I have the abilities. I commanded the gateway to open. Me. So whose fault is it if not mine?"
His thumb retraced her cheekbone, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than before.
"We face this together," he said quietly. "But let me handle the initial politics. They're going to be looking for someone to blame, and I need you to trust me to position this correctly."
She studied his face for a long moment, searching for something.
Finally, she nodded.
He stepped back, giving her space. She went to the washbasin,splashing cold water on her face with careful movements that avoided jarring her injuries. She changed quickly, pulling on the gown his servants had provided. When she straightened, she pushed back some of the fatigue with determination.
There she is. His thief, refusing to break.
His shadows wrapped around her as they left his chambers, and he let them. Let his power reveal that she belonged to him.
They moved with intent, tracing her pulse points—throat, wrists, the hollow behind her ear. Curled around her throat like a visible collar. Slid beneath her clothing to rest against bare skin.
Every shadow-tendril a declaration: touch her and die.
The walk to the throne room was silent except for their footsteps. He could feel the other Death Lords pressing against his wards, adding more strain to systems already weakening.
The throne room's temperature had shifted erratically when they crossed the threshold. Seraphina's wrath mixed with the heat bleeding off Vex's starving power.
The mosaic floor bore fresh cracks from Seraphina's pacing. Vex's hunger had scorched dark patches on the windows. Even Thessa's gentle presence had left frost patterns spreading across surfaces.
He bristled at the invasion.
