Chapter 34
XXXIV.
brYNN
The walls were lined with weapons mounted in glass cases. Swords with nicked blades, war hammers dark with stains, spears still bearing fragments of the armor they'd pierced. Tattered banners hung from iron brackets, their fabric torn and bloodstained, displaying heraldry of dead armies.
Every single display was a trophy. A kill. A conquest.
The Death Lords really committed to their aesthetics. She'd give them that.
Brynn took it all in. The spacing of the displays, the positioning of certain weapons for quick access even behind the glass, the corridor designed to intimidate while remaining functional.
The heat wasn't helping. Sweat still clung to her skin beneath the leathers, making her aware of how exposed she felt here. How mortal. Seraphina wasn't just showing off. Every visitor would understand exactly what kind of power they faced before reaching the throne room.
Dante walked beside her, close enough that his shadows brushed the edge of her boots. She didn't know if that was intentional or if his darkness was doing that thing again—reaching for her when he wasn't paying attention.
She told herself she wasn't paying attention either.
But she'd noticed his hands. Gloved fingers flexing once when they'd crossed into Seraphina's territory, then going deliberately still. Like he was reminding himself to stay controlled.
She wondered what it cost him. All that restraint, all the time.
The throne room opened before them like a cavern carved from red stone.
Columns of marble supported the vaulted ceiling, but between them, two-handed swords had been driven point-first into the floor, their crossguards forming archways.
Shields hung on the walls like coins, some split clean in half, others bearing the dents and gouges of last stands.
The air tasted of metal and old blood.
Brynn's mouth had gone dry. The Forsaken court was unsettling in its beauty, all impossible architecture and living shadows. This was different. This was a room that wanted her to know exactly how many ways she could die in it.
The throne was built from stacked weapons. Broken blades, shattered axes, splintered spear hafts welded together into a seat of metal and conquest.
And sitting at the center, looking entirely comfortable on her throne of broken weapons, was Seraphina.
Up close, she was even more imposing than she'd appeared from a distance. Six feet of violence, watching their approach with the calm of someone who'd carved her legend in blood and wasn't finished yet.
Brynn forced herself to breathe normally, to keep her expression neutral even though every nerve in her body wanted to step backward. She'd walked into hostile territory before. Noble estates, guilds that would kill her if they caught her. This was just another threat to navigate.
Except this one could probably snap her neck while carrying on a conversation.
Dante's shoulder shifted almost imperceptibly. Angling toward her. Putting himself a half-step ahead without making it obvious.
She shouldn't have found that comforting. She definitely shouldn't have felt her spine straighten because of it.
"Reaper." Seraphina's voice carried across the throne room without effort. The kind of command that came from years of shouting orders across battlefields. "Still collecting strays, I see."
Heat flooded Brynn's face before she could stop it.
Seraphina noticed. The corner of her mouth curved.
Brynn locked her jaw and gave nothing else away. But beside her, Dante went still. Utterly, completely still. The kind of stillness that preceded violence.
His shadows spread an inch wider across the floor.
He didn't rise to it. "Seraphina." His voice stayed level. "Ward failures have been reported across multiple territories. We're investigating to determine the scope and cause."
No pleasantries. No pretense that this was a friendly visit.
Brynn stayed silent, studying Seraphina's face for micro-expressions, tells, anything useful. But part of her attention kept drifting to the shadows pooling at her feet. They'd curled around her ankle now.
She doubted he'd noticed. His focus was fixed on Seraphina, his profile sharp as cut glass in the red-tinted light. Jaw set. Eyes cold.
He looked like what he was. Death, wearing a beautiful face.
She needed to stop noticing his face.
"Ward failures." Seraphina rose from her throne. She was taller than Brynn had estimated, her presence filling the space in a way that pressed against the walls. "And you brought this to inspect magical infrastructure older than her entire bloodline?"
The dismissiveness made Brynn's jaw clench.
She kept her mouth shut. Her nails found her palms.
Darkness pooled deeper at Dante's feet, gathered tight.
"She's proven exceptionally skilled at reading ward-magic patterns." His voice stayed level, but an edge crept underneath. The kind of tone that made her pulse skip even when it wasn't directed at her. "Her evaluations have been invaluable."
Invaluable.
The word shouldn't have meant anything. It was a political defense, nothing more. A Death Lord protecting his asset in front of another predator.
It still landed where it shouldn't have.
"Invaluable." Seraphina descended the steps from her throne, and Brynn watched her move with the kind of lethal grace that reminded her, uncomfortably, of someone else. "You always did have interesting definitions of value, Dante."
His actual name instead of his title. Familiar. Intimate.
Cold slid through Brynn's chest.
You always did. How long had they known each other? What history lived in that casual use of his name, in the way Seraphina's eyes swept over him like she knew exactly what was underneath that controlled exterior?
Her nails pressed harder into her palms.
Beside her, Dante's gloved hand twitched. Once. The barest movement. If she hadn't been watching—if she hadn't been so pathetically aware of his every movement—she would have missed it.
But she was. And she didn't.
She wondered if Seraphina had made that hand twitch for different reasons, once.
The thought burned more than it should have.
Seraphina moved closer, and Brynn had to actively fight the urge to step back. Every instinct screamed at her to maintain distance, to not let this woman into her space.
But retreating would be weakness. And weakness here meant blood.
"A mortal." Seraphina circled them slowly, examining Brynn from different angles like she was evaluating a weapon. "Who thinks she understands forces that predate her species by millennia." Her eyes raked over Brynn with cold appraisal. "Tell me, little thief. What qualifies you to judge my wards?"
The question was a trap. Answer too confidently, and she'd be arrogant. Too humbly, and she'd confirm Seraphina's verdict that she was worthless.
Brynn met her gaze directly, forcing herself not to look away even though those eyes made her skin crawl. "I read patterns. Ward magic has patterns."
"Patterns." Seraphina's smile widened, showing teeth.
"How delightfully simple." She stopped circling, standing close enough that Brynn could see the individual scars on her arms. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds.
Each one a story written in violence. "And if I asked you to demonstrate this pattern-reading on my person, would you see anything interesting? "
The threat was subtle but unmistakable.
Brynn's fingers twitched at her sides. She was standing within arm's reach of a Death Lord who could end her before Dante's shadows crossed the distance.
The shadows at her ankles tightened.
"We all have documented failures in our courts now." Dante's voice cut through the tension, drawing Seraphina's attention away. "We're trying to understand what's happening and whether the incidents are connected."
He shifted as he spoke, positioning himself between them. Subtle enough to look casual. Deliberate enough that Brynn felt the wall of cold air that always surrounded him brush against her arm.
His hand grazed hers as he moved. Gloved fingers against her bare wrist. Brief. Barely there.
Stay calm. I'm here.
She couldn't possibly know that's what it meant. Could be accidental. Could be nothing.
Her heart stuttered anyway.
She shouldn't have noticed. Shouldn't have felt her shoulders drop a fraction as his shadow fell across her.
The pressure eased just enough for her to breathe.
"Connected." Seraphina's focus shifted entirely to Dante now. "You think the failures aren't random?"
Brynn watched her face. Was that surprise? Concern? Or was she asking because she already knew the answer?
But she also watched the way Seraphina looked at him. The assessment in those eyes. The familiarity.
She hated that she noticed. Hated that she cared.
"That's what we're trying to determine." Dante's shadows spread across the floor, slow and deliberate. "Which is why we need access to your ward-stones. To document the damage and compare it to what we've found elsewhere."
Seraphina studied him for a long moment. Her gaze moved from Dante to the shadows pooling at his feet, then slid to where those shadows curled around Brynn's boots.
Amusement flickered in her expression.
Wonderful. The terrifying war goddess found her entertaining. That couldn't possibly end badly.
"Access to my defensive infrastructure." Her smile turned sharp. "How convenient for the Reaper to map my vulnerabilities."
There it was. The real concern. Not ward failures. Trust. Or the complete absence of it.
Brynn watched the two Death Lords face each other, both radiating power that pressed against her. This wasn't just about wards. This was old grudges and ancient politics stretching back long before she was born.
And somewhere in those centuries, Seraphina had learned to call him by his real name.
None of that was Brynn's business. None of it should matter to her at all.
"Your vulnerabilities are already exposed if the wards are failing." Dante's voice carried steel. "We're offering to help you understand why."
"Help." Seraphina laughed. Sharp, humorless.
"From the Death Lord who's spent the last hundred years in isolation?
" She stepped closer to him, close enough that Brynn could see the way his jaw tightened, the way the muscle flexed beneath pale skin.
"Forgive me if I'm suspicious of your sudden interest in my domain's security. "
Two Death Lords circling, deciding whether to fight or concede. Brynn's every instinct told her to put distance between herself and whatever was about to happen. But moving would draw attention back to her. And Seraphina's attention was the last thing she wanted.
"If the ward network is degrading, it affects all of us." His shadows had gone still now. "Whatever's causing this won't stop at court boundaries."
Seraphina's expression shifted. Skepticism giving way to calculation. "You're genuinely concerned."
"Yes."
Silence stretched between them. Brynn barely dared to breathe.
Finally, Seraphina stepped back. "Your pet can examine my wards." Her gaze cut to Brynn. "But if she breaks anything, I'm keeping her."
"No."
The shadows at Brynn's feet surged outward, spreading across the stone. They coiled up her calves, wrapped around her waist, pulled her half a step closer to him, before they seemed to catch themselves and went still.
Brynn's heart slammed against her ribs.
He still hadn't looked at her. His eyes stayed fixed on Seraphina, cold and lethal. But his darkness had just claimed her in front of another Death Lord, and from the way Seraphina's smile widened, she'd noticed every bit of it.
"Interesting," Seraphina murmured.
Dante's jaw tightened further. That muscle jumping again.
The shadows retreated slowly, settling back into their usual pool around his feet. But Brynn could still feel the echo of them against her skin.
She risked a glance at his profile. At the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his spine. He had to know what he'd just revealed. Had to know Seraphina would file it away and use it later.
He'd done it anyway.
Her chest tightened in a way she couldn't explain.
"Fine." Seraphina's smile was all teeth and promise now. "Let's see what your little thief can do, then."