Chapter XXXII
XXXII.
brYNN
Brynn found Dante in his private study before dawn. He stood hunched over his desk, surrounded by maps and intelligence reports spread across every available surface. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle as he moved documents around.
Her steps faltered.
Black gloves still covered his hands, but something about seeing him like this, shirt pushed back, absorbed in work, made her pulse do something inconvenient.
She'd seen him unleash his power. Watched him command an entire court with a single word.
But this felt more intimate somehow. The Reaper doing paperwork.
The most feared Death Lord in existence, frowning at supply reports like they'd personally offended him.
She had bigger problems today than his forearms.
She paused in the doorway. The maps showed a territory she didn't recognize. Desert stretches broken by mountain ranges, scarred dunes, fortress cities carved into cliffsides. Red markers dotted the landscape like blood drops.
"We're visiting Seraphina today." He didn't look up. "Her court feeds on violence. Everyone there died brutal deaths. War, murder, accidents. They'll see you as a weakness to exploit."
That rough tone stirred irritation and something less convenient inside her.
"I can handle myself, Reaper."
He went still. Papers stopped moving under his hands. When he looked up, those dark eyes held an edge that hadn't been there yesterday.
"Not there." Weight pressed into each word.
Brynn stepped into the study. His shadows shifted as she approached, darkness bunching around his boots like muscles tensing for a fight. One tendril curled toward her ankle before snapping back to his side.
Even his shadows couldn't decide what to do with her.
"Then explain instead of issuing orders."
His fingers curled into the parchment, crumpling the edges. The muscle along his jaw tightened.
"Seraphina believes strength is the only thing that matters. She's been hostile to cooperation between courts from the beginning." He straightened to his full height, and the room shrank. "Recent ward failures near her territory give us reason to investigate, but she won't welcome scrutiny."
Brynn studied the tension in his shoulders. The way he held his body like a blade angled toward the door. There was history here. Conflicts that predated her by eons.
"Hostile how?"
He gathered several reports into a neat stack, movements sharper than necessary.
"She believes the old ways were better. Each court isolated, ruling through strength alone.
" He tapped one of the red markers. "She'll use anything she can find to drive a wedge between us.
To prove that cooperation makes me weak. "
The way he said it, the weight on certain words, pauses where there should have been none, made her wonder what he wasn't telling her.
"What aren't you telling me?"
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 on protection, 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.