The way he looked at her in that moment, like he was seeing past everything surface-level to something that actually impressed him, sent a flutter through her chest she had no business feeling.
"Get some rest." He said it like an order, but his tone had gone almost gentle. "You'll need your strength."
Then he was walking away, shadows flowing around him, and she was left leaning against the wall, wondering when exactly she'd started noticing the way he moved. The controlled power in every step. The distance he maintained even when he was clearly concerned.
That control had to cost him something. Keeping everything perfect, everyone at a distance, never letting the mask slip.
She wanted to know what he looked like when that control finally broke.
And that thought needed to go directly back where it came from.
She needed to collapse somewhere horizontal before her legs decided for her.
But she couldn't quite shake the warmth in her chest. Or the memory of his shadows wrapped around her arm, refusing to let go.
Or the way he'd looked at her when he saidYou wouldn't.
Like he knew exactly how dangerous she could be, and didn't mind at all.
XXVI.
BRYNN
The next afternoon, Brynn woke feeling almost human. The exhaustion had faded to soreness, and her hands had finally stopped trembling.
On the wall, the drowning woman had drifted to the bottom, her face peaceful. Eyes closed now, as if she'd finally stopped fighting and found rest.
She was deciding whether to try getting dressed when three sharp knocks sounded at her door. A moment later, Naia entered and went straight to the wardrobe.
"The midnight blue," the ghostly woman said, pulling out the gown and laying it across the bed with care. "Lord Reaper's instructions."
Brynn's pulse quickened.He'd chosen this? Specified which dress?
The same dress she'd admired but never worn. Too much like something that announced she belonged here. The silk caught the light like dark water, elegant enough for any court function but cut in lines that wouldn't restrict movement if she needed to run.
Practical. Whether for her comfort or because he expected trouble, she couldn't say. Knowing him, probably both.
And why did that make warmth curl in her chest?
"He was particular about the selection." Naia moved to arrangejewelry at the dressing table. "Specified the color, the cut, even which pieces you should wear with it."
Oh, that was worse. He'd thought about this. About how she'd look wearing it. About the details.
She had a political gauntlet to survive tonight.
"So." Brynn settled into the chair, forcing her thoughts to safer ground. "Who exactly will be evaluating me tonight?"
"Lady Morwyn will be there, of course." The faintest disdain colored Naia's voice as she worked on Brynn's hair with skilled fingers. "She's territorial about Lord Reaper's attention. Old bloodline, significant magical abilities, decades of court influence."
"Territorial." The word lodged somewhere uncomfortable in her chest.
She could still feel his shadows wrapped around her arm yesterday. Still hear that low edge in his voice when he'd ordered her to rest. And now some court beauty with lifetimes of proximity and claim was going to be in the same room, watching them both.
"Let me guess," she said, pushing past the knot in her stomach. "She's been angling for the consort position for the better part of a century?"
"How did you...?" Naia's hands paused in her hair. "Yes, exactly."
Because she'd seen this before. Power attracted ambition like honey drew flies. Women circling wealthy men, playing the long game, building claim through proximity and expectation.
