Chapter 19
XIX.
DANTE
The ward reports arrived before dawn, but it was Nathaniel who delivered them, not the usual ward-keeper. His chief advisor moved through the study with the ease of someone who'd served for ages, setting the scrolls on Dante's desk.
"Two more failures overnight, my lord." Nathaniel's voice was neutral, but Dante caught the concern beneath it. "One at the boundary between your domain and the Court of Violence, another near the outer reaches where the death realm touches the living world."
Dante read each report twice, his jaw tightening with every detail.
The damage patterns were escalating. What had been isolated incidents were becoming coordinated strikes against the entire network.
Someone was moving faster than anticipated, targeting vulnerabilities that suggested intimate knowledge of the ward system's architecture.
"The pattern is spreading outward from our domain," Nathaniel observed, moving to stand beside the table where the three-dimensional ward maps hovered. "As if someone is deliberately targeting areas where your influence is strongest."
"Personal, then." Dante's shadows settled around his shoulders, responding to the threat with interest.
"Indeed." Nathaniel paused, selecting his words with care. "There's also... talk in the court. About the human tribute."
Dante's attention sharpened, though he kept his expression neutral. "What kind of talk?"
"The usual speculation when you show interest in anyone." Nathaniel's tone was guarded; years of service had taught him when to tread lightly. "Some are confused by your decision to keep her alive. Others are watching to see if she'll prove different somehow."
"She's proving useful with the ward-work," he said, keeping his tone level.
"Yes, my lord." Nathaniel's expression suggested he knew there was more to it. "Though several courtiers have noted you've been... less dismissive of her presence than you typically are."
Dante's teeth ground together. He'd known this would happen. His court watched everything, noticed every deviation from his usual patterns.
"The human has a rare ability," he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous tone that warned against further commentary. "Her survival serves a practical purpose."
"Of course." Nathaniel inclined his head. "Will you be beginning her training this morning, then?"
"After she's eaten." Dante turned back to the ward maps. "I'll need the instructional materials prepared. The basic texts on ward theory, the practice stones, and the charts showing network architecture."
"I'll have them brought immediately." Nathaniel moved toward the door, then paused. "My lord, if I may. If there is a saboteur, anyone working closely with you becomes a target as well."
"I'm aware of the risks."
"Are you certain she's worth the potential complications?"
A knock interrupted before he could formulate a response.
Both men turned toward the door.
"Enter," Dante called.
The door opened, and she stepped inside.
His shadows moved before he could stop them, reaching toward her in greeting like she was something they'd been waiting for. He pulled them back sharply, but not before Nathaniel's eyebrows rose slightly—a rare display from someone usually so composed.
She'd dressed practically. Dark pants, sturdy boots, a shirt with sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair secured away from her face. Her gaze moved between him and Nathaniel.
"Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all." Nathaniel recovered smoothly, offering her a slight bow. "I was just leaving." He turned back to Dante. "I'll have those materials sent up immediately, my lord."
"See that you do."
Nathaniel moved past her toward the door, then paused. "Miss Brynn. A pleasure, as always."
"Nathaniel." She returned the nod like she'd been doing it her whole life.
The door closed behind him, leaving them alone.
Two chairs had been added to the workspace since yesterday. Simple wooden seats positioned across from each other at the main table, close enough for instruction but maintaining proper distance.
She moved to the table and studied the translucent ward displays. The blue light caught in her eyes.
"You're early," he observed, forcing his attention back to the ward maps.
"You said after the morning meal. I ate." She ran her fingers through the air above the ward displays without touching them, following the network's architecture.
He gestured for her to come closer. "We'll be working here. The training materials will arrive shortly."
She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Was Nathaniel giving you a hard time about training me?"
Perceptive.
"Nathaniel has concerns about the political complications of my keeping you alive," he said.
"Political complications." She studied the ward maps. "You mean people are wondering why the Reaper hasn't killed his tribute yet."
"Among other things."
"What other things?"
He shouldn't answer. Shouldn't encourage this. But something about the way she asked made him respond anyway.
"They've noticed I'm less dismissive of your presence than I typically am."
Her hand stilled above the ward map. A slight flush colored her cheeks, visible even in the blue light. She kept her attention fixed on the projections, but he saw her pulse flutter at her throat.
"Well," she said after a moment, her voice forcibly light, "you haven't tried to kill me yet. That's practically friendly by your standards."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Get comfortable. We have a great deal of work ahead of us."
She finally looked up, meeting his gaze. Her eyes were brighter than they should be, her lips slightly parted.
"Comfortable," she repeated. "In the Reaper's study. That's asking a lot."
"Yet you're still here."
"So I am." She held his gaze for another heartbeat, then turned away to settle into the chair across from his. "Should I be worried about what you're planning to teach me?"
"We'll start with theory. The network's architecture, how the various magical elements interconnect, the principles that govern ward construction and maintenance."
"Sounds thrilling."
"It will keep you alive." He moved to the other side of the table. "Pay attention. Your instincts during the crisis were good, but instinct alone won't be enough for what's coming."
Her expression shifted. Less playful challenge, more serious assessment. "What is coming?"
"War. Someone is targeting the ward network, and they won't stop until they get what they want. That makes you valuable. Which makes you a target."
"Because I can feel the ward-magic."
"Because you can do more than feel it. You can manipulate it in ways that shouldn't be possible for someone without formal training." He held her gaze. "That makes you dangerous to whoever is behind the sabotage. And it makes you essential to stopping them."
"No pressure, then."
"None whatsoever." His mouth twitched again. "Now, shall we begin? Or would you prefer to trade more verbal barbs first?"
She grinned. "I can multitask."
A knock at the door announced the arrival of the training materials. Servants entered with armfuls of leather-bound texts, practice stones, and rolled charts covered in ward patterns. They set everything on the table silently, then withdrew without meeting his eyes.
She was already reaching for one of the practice stones, turning it over in her hands.
"These are different from the real ward-locks."
"Training versions. Designed with safeguards so you can experiment without catastrophic consequences." He selected the smallest stone from the collection and set it between them. "Before we begin formal instruction, I want to understand exactly how you approached the repair yesterday."
The practice stone glowed faintly, power pulsing within it. She studied it, running her fingers over the carved symbols.
"It felt like a song with missing notes," she said.
"Show me what you mean by that."
She leaned forward, hair falling over her shoulder.
"I don't know if I can recreate it," she said, uncertainty replacing the confidence from moments ago. "During the crisis, I was just reacting."
"Try."
She reached toward the stone, then hesitated. "What happens if I do something wrong?"
"The training stones are designed with safeguards. The worst you'll experience is unconsciousness and a severe headache when you wake up." He positioned himself across from her, ready to observe. "Unlike last night, we have controlled conditions."
"Controlled." She smiled slightly, fingers hovering just above the stone's surface. "Right. Because everything about this situation feels completely under control."
"Touch the stone," he said, his voice dropping to command. "Show me what you can do."