"She has the backing of several factions," Naia continued. "She's also... accustomed to getting what she wants."
"Wonderful." So, a powerful, well-connected woman who'd been circling Dante for decades and probably saw Brynn as an upstart threat. "Anyone else I should worry about?"
"Lord Lucian will likely be there. He's been questioning whether Lord Reaper's recent activities represent the best use of his time and resources." Naia's tone made her feelings about Lord Lucian's opinions clear. "He'll probe to see if you're influencing policy decisions."
Recent activities, meaning saving the realm from magical collapse. Right. Can't have the Lord wasting time trying to prevent reality from tearing itself apart.
"And if I am?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Then he'll either try to win you to his side or eliminate you."
The casual way Naia saideliminatesharpened Brynn's instincts. Note the exits, mark potential allies, and watch for poison in the wine.
Nothing she hadn't handled before.
"Noted. Anyone else?"
"Lady Vivienne will be curious about your abilities. She's the court's primary magical theorist. Expect subtle tests of your knowledge and capabilities." Naia arranged a necklace of dark stones around Brynn's throat, the weight cool against her skin. "Master Magnus will want to determine whether you're a temporary novelty or a permanent fixture."
"And how exactly does one make that call?"
"By observing how Lord Reaper responds to you in social settings." Naia's hands stilled, meeting Brynn's eyes in the mirror with unusual directness. "Whether he defends you, includes you in conversations, treats you as an equal or a subordinate."
Heat crept up her neck.
She thought about yesterday. His shadows refusing to leave her arm even after she'd straightened. The way his jaw had gone tight when she'd joked about face-planting into soup. What would the court see when they looked at them together? Would they read the measured distance he maintained as indifference, or notice the tension that crackled whenever they were in the same room?
Would they see how hard it was becoming for her not to lean into those shadows when they touched her?
It was a dinner, not a declaration.
"The court functions on careful balance, miss," Naia continued, her expression turning serious. "Your presence disrupts that balance."
Good. She'd never been fond of other people's balance. Especially when that balance meant keeping her in an assigned box labeledtemporary.
"Disrupts it how?"
"You're not bound by the same rules as the rest of us. You're mortal. You have no political debts or centuries of allegiances. Andnow you've proven capable of working magic that most of them can't even perceive." Something like approval flickered in the ghost's features. "That makes you either a valuable ally or a dangerous wild card."
Wild card. She'd been called worse, usually right before pulling off an impossible job.
Though this felt different. Higher stakes. Because it wasn't just about survival anymore.
When had that changed?
"Any specific advice for handling all this political maneuvering?"
"Don't try to out-polite them. They've perfected this over the ages. Be yourself, but be mindful." Naia's expression turned protective. "And remember, miss. Every interaction tonight will be analyzed and assigned meaning. Not just yours. His."
There it was. That weight of expectation.
She wondered if he felt it too. If he was somewhere in this castle right now, thinking about the dinner. About navigating the court's scrutiny.
About her wearing the dress he'd chosen.
When Naia helped her into the gown, Brynn caught her reflection and barely recognized herself. The midnight blue silk moved like it had been made for her, which it probably had been. The off-shoulder neckline bared her collarbones and the elegant line of her throat where the dark stones rested. Her hair fell in artfully casual waves.
Someone who looked dangerous in an entirely different way. Someone who could stand beside a Death Lord and not look diminished.
