"I can't feel my legs…again,” she murmured against his chest.
"Good." The satisfaction in his voice was insufferable. "Then you won't be going anywhere."
He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
"I have forever with you now." His arms tightened around her. "I don't intend to waste a single moment."
She turned in his arms, meeting his dark eyes. Saw the emotion there. The wonder. The disbelief that she'd come back to him. That she'd chosen him.
"Forever," she agreed, and kissed him.
When they broke apart, he was smiling. That rare, real smile that transformed his face.
"There are so many more surfaces in this room," he murmured against her lips. "And I intend to use every one of them."
She grinned, want already stirring again. "Then we'd better get started."
LXXXV.
BRYNN
One Month Later
"Hold still, my lady."
Naia's fingers worked through another section of Brynn's hair, weaving it into a pattern that pulled at her scalp with each twist. Sharp enough to remind her she was still real.
"I don't understand why we need this." Brynn shifted on the stool, earning a sharper tug in response.
"The people need ceremony." Naia secured another pin. "They need to see their rulers in all their glory. Makes them feel the realm is stable."
"The realmisstable." Brynn caught her eye in the mirror, saw silver threading through her irises that hadn't been there a month ago. "We fixed the wards. Caelum's gone. Gabriel's handling the Mourned Court. This feels?—"
She stopped. Elaborate display. Performance. All the hallmarks of the cons she used to run, except this time she wasn't working the angle.
"Unnecessary?" Naia supplied.
"Like showing off."
"When has necessity ever stopped the Death Lords from being dramatic?" Naia's voice held amusement. "Besides, Lord Reaper specifically requested you look..." She paused. "Devastating."
Warmth crept up Brynn's neck. Of course he had.
"One month of relative peace and now he wants to parade me around like?—"
"Like his equal?" Naia interrupted, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "Like the Lady of Boundaries who saved all the realms?"
Brynn's mouth opened. Closed.
"There." Naia stepped back, admiring her work. "Now let's get you into that dress."
Her hair was swept up into a tight braided crown that wrapped around her head before knotting at her nape. Pieces framed her face, softening the severity just enough.
Behind the dressing screen, the gown waited, black fabric with silver thread that shifted like constellations. At certain angles, ward-symbols appeared in the threading before dissolving back into shadow.
She let her white shadows rise, working the fastenings with more dexterity than her hands could manage. The fabric settled against her skin, heavier than it looked. The silver threads pulsed faintly in response to her.
"That dress isn't just about looking beautiful," Naia said from the other side of the screen. "It's armor. Political armor. Every Death Lord who sees you tonight will understand exactly what you are."
