Chapter 25
XXV.
brYNN
The transport circle deposited them back in the castle's east wing with the same disorienting lurch that had carried them to the failure site. Brynn's boots hit stone, and her knees nearly buckled.
She caught herself against the wall, willing her legs to hold. The magical work had drained more than physical strength. Left her feeling hollowed out, scraped clean.
Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"Steady." Dante's voice came from too close, and she looked up to find him watching her with an intensity that made her pulse jump.
His shadows were already coiling around her elbow, supporting without quite touching. Cool and solid, sending a shiver through her.
Her body noticed how close he was standing. She was half-dead and covered in grime, and still...
She straightened, pride demanding she stand on her own even as her legs trembled. "I'm fine."
One dark eyebrow rose. He didn't believe her for a second, and the way his gaze swept over her made heat crawl up her neck.
It was practical. Checking if she was about to collapse.
Except his jaw had gone tight, and his shadows hadn't retreated from her arm.
"The immediate crisis is contained," he said finally, dismissing the circle with a wave. The magic dissipated, taking the last of the humid air with it.
She nodded, focusing on slowing her breathing. Here, everything was stable. The shadows fell in normal directions. Reality behaved as it should.
They'd bought time. That was all—a temporary fix for a problem that kept accelerating.
He was worried. About her. The realization settled somewhere warm in her chest.
She filed that thought away for when she wasn't swaying on her feet.
"You need rest," he said, voice dropping to that rough tone that always made her breath catch.
"Probably." She pushed off the wall, testing her balance. Better. Mostly. "Though I suspect rest isn't high on the priority list."
"It is tonight." His gaze lingered on her face. "Tomorrow evening, there's a formal court dinner. Your first."
Tomorrow. Relief loosened a knot in her chest she hadn't realized was there. Time to recover. Time to stop noticing how the cold blue firelight from the wall sconces caught in his dark hair, how his presence seemed to fill the corridor even when he stood perfectly still.
Delirious. That was the only reason she was cataloguing him like stolen treasure, appraising what she couldn't afford.
"Let me guess," she said, brushing futilely at the crystal residue covering her clothes. "They need to see the mortal who can touch ward-stones."
"Word will spread about today's mission. Better they hear it in controlled circumstances." A pause, his attention settling on her face again. "And better you're not dying on your feet when they evaluate you."
Fair point. Though the way he said dying suggested he thought she was closer than she'd admit.
"Worried I'll embarrass you by face-planting into the soup course?" She meant it as a joke, but her voice came out rough. Fatigue made her defenses slip.
His eyes darkened. "No."
One word, but the way he said it made her wonder what he was actually worried about. Because it wasn't embarrassment. His shadows wrapped tighter around her arm, almost protective.
Oh, that was worse. That was so much worse than if he just found her useful.
"Will you brief me on who I'll be meeting?" She kept her voice casual, even with the awareness humming under her skin that he was watching her like she might shatter.
"Naia will handle preparations and protocols." He turned toward the main corridor, and she felt the loss of his proximity immediately. Shadows released her arm, trailing back to him. "Rest first. She'll come to you tomorrow afternoon."
"So I have a whole day to dread whatever political nightmare awaits." She managed a smile that probably looked half-dead. "Wonderful."
He paused mid-step, then turned back to face her, and something in his expression made her breath catch. The cold blue firelight carved his profile into sharp angles.
"The court can be..." He seemed to search for words, which was unusual enough to sharpen her attention. "Cruel. Particularly to those they perceive as vulnerable."
"Good thing I don't plan on being vulnerable, then." She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze directly, even though her legs were shaking.
Something flickered in his expression. Almost approval, but edged with heat that sent warmth racing through her.
"No," he said quietly. "You wouldn't."
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 said You wouldn't.
Like he knew exactly how dangerous she could be, and didn't mind at all.