Chapter 26
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 arrange jewelry 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.
"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 said eliminate sharpened 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 labeled temporary.
"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.
And now 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.
Not bad for a girl who used to pick pockets for breakfast money.
Her mother would have been proud. Or horrified. Possibly both.
"Ready, miss?" Naia asked, stepping back with satisfaction.
Brynn straightened her shoulders, feeling the weight of the dark stones at her throat. She wasn't just attending as the human tribute. She was walking into a room full of people who would be judging her, trying to determine what her capabilities meant for their schemes.
Let them try. She'd size them up right back, marking every tell, every alliance, every weakness they revealed.
And if Lady Morwyn wanted to play territorial games over a man who wasn't hers to claim?
Well. Brynn had never been good at backing down from a challenge.
Even if she had no right to feel territorial herself.
Even if the thought of watching another woman close to him made possessive heat coil in her chest.
Even if she was walking into this dinner knowing she was in far deeper than she'd ever intended to be.
"Let's go," she said, lifting her chin. "Time to show them what disruption looks like."
And time to see how he looks at you in that dress, whispered a traitorous voice in her head.
She told that voice to shut up.
It didn't listen.