Heat flooded her neck as dozens of eyes appraised her with new interest. Spirits, bound servants, warriors. All of them were suddenly very aware of her presence.
She kept her expression neutral, her posture relaxed.
"Perhaps." His voice went flat.
Power flickered at the edges of the dais like flames responding to wind that wasn't there. The throne's base seemed to strain higher. Just his power reacting to whatever he was feeling.
"Though I find it curious," he continued, weighing each word, "that these fluctuations are just now being reported. Ward-locks don't fail silently. Someone should have noticed this earlier.”
The representative's smile never wavered, but her posture shifted subtly. A fractional tensing, suggesting she'd expected this challenge.
"Lord Caelum wanted to gather all perspectives before raising an alarm," she said smoothly. "He looks forward to your counsel on the matter. Your expertise with the ward system is, after all, unmatched."
Flattery. Appealing to his pride.
But the Reaper didn't look flattered. He looked suspicious.
"Tell Lord Caelum I will attend his council," he said finally. "And that I expect a full accounting of these 'minor issues' before I arrive."
The representative bowed again, deeper this time. "Of course, my lord. He will be pleased by your cooperation."
The representative couldn't leave fast enough, her quick pace through the bone-framed doors not quite masking her relief. After that, the remaining court business felt different.
More whispered conversations among the courtiers—speculative glances in Brynn's direction. More tension radiated from the dais where the Reaper sat in thoughtful silence, his shadows writhing around him like agitated snakes, curling around the throne's base.
The courtiers wondered what she was, and why a tribute would have talents related to ward-locks.
She wondered that herself. What had she done to those tools in the vault? Why had they glowed when she touched them? And why did he watch her the way he did? Like she was an anomaly he hadn't accounted for?
When the final petitioner was dismissed, and the room began to empty, Brynn started to slip toward the exit along with the others.
"Thief."
The Reaper's voice carried across the space, stopping her mid-step. The remaining courtiers paused, watching.
"You will dine with me tonight. Eight bells. Don't be late."
Nowould youorif you please.Just commands delivered in that rough voice, sending unwanted heat down her spine.
He rose without waiting for her answer. Shadows flowed around him as he strode from the room, the throne seeming to grasp after him as he left.
Leaving Brynn standing there on a floor of teeth, every gaze in the room fixed on her.
IX.
BRYNN
When the eighth bell chimed somewhere in the depths of the palace, a sound like bones striking bones, a servant appeared at her door.
"My lady." The translucent figure bowed. "The Lord Reaper requests your presence at dinner."
Brynn followed through corridors that twisted in ways that made no sense—left, right, down a staircase carved from what might have been a single massive horn—until she was thoroughly lost.
Probably the point.
The grand hall could have comfortably seated fifty people. Instead, it seated two. One at each end of a table so long she could barely make out the Reaper's expression in the candlelight. The distance between them felt absurd, like they were shouting across a canyon to have a conversation.
Or like he was making a point about the space he needed to keep between himself and everyone else.
