His gaze snapped to hers. Approval flickered across his face before he could hide it. Like she'd passed a test she hadn't known she was taking.
"She and I have disagreed on policy for as long as anyone remembers." His voice dropped lower, into that register that made her stomach tighten. "Don't let her goad you into anger. That's when she's most dangerous. And don't trust anything she tells you about the other Death Lords." A beat. "Or about me. She has her own agenda."
There. That hint of vulnerability beneath the command. Whatever Seraphina might reveal, he was worried about it. About what Brynn might learn. What she might believe.
The question sat on her tongue. What could Seraphina possibly tell her that he hadn't? But she swallowed it. Not now. Not when he looked like that, coiled tight, every line of his body braced for something worse than a diplomatic visit.
"When do we leave?"
"Within the hour." He moved to a cabinet and withdrew traveling gear. Dark leather armor designed to blend with shadows, reinforced with wards that shimmered faintly in the low light.
This wasn't diplomacy. This was walking into enemy territory armed.
"Thief."
The way he said it pulled her attention back like a hand on her wrist. Quiet. Almost intimate. Nothing like the cold dismissal it had been weeks ago.
His gaze held hers. "Whatever happens there, whatever she says, you're under my protection. Don't let pride make you forget that."
Her chest went tight. Not from fear. From the way his voice roughened onprotection, like the word cost him something.
He was worried. For her. And she liked that way too much.
"I won't do anything reckless," she promised.
One dark eyebrow rose. His expression suggested he doubted every word, but the corners of his mouth softened. Not quite a smile. Close enough to count.
"Good." He held her gaze a beat longer than necessary. Then turned back to his maps.
The shadows continued their restless dance around the room, coiling and uncoiling. One drifted toward the doorway where she stood, hovering near her hip before retreating.
Hunter preparing for battle. Death Lord bracing for conflict.
Whatever waited in Seraphina's court had even the Reaper on edge.
Brynn adjusted the leather armor across her shoulders and told herself the flutter in her stomach was nerves.
She was a terrible liar.
XXXIII.
BRYNN
An hour later, dressed in the leathers he'd provided, reinforced with magic she could feel humming against her skin, Brynn met Dante in the east corridor. His shadows moved with more purpose than usual, coiling and uncoiling around him like something caged.
He turned without greeting.
Brynn stepped into his path. "Before we go, I need information I can actually use. Not just warnings."
He stopped. Those dark eyes studied her face with the same intensity he'd use to gauge a threat.
"The desert kills the weak before they reach her gates." His voice dropped. "She'll judge every word, every gesture. Looking for something to exploit."
Brynn absorbed this, filing the patterns away. Court politics, but with actual murder instead of social ruin.
"What about her personally?"
"Intelligent. Ruthless." His expression darkened, shadows deepening around his eyes. "She pushes boundaries until something breaks."
