Except I can see her smile from the dream. Can hear that soft laugh. Can feel the warmth of her body against mine in a memory that isn't real but felt more genuine than half my actual experiences.
Fuck.
I shove the thought away, annoyed at myself for even having it. It sours my mood further, though I'm a prickly bastard on my best day.
This isn't complicated. I need Azhrael bridled. Lenna has demonstrated an ability to approach him safely. The logical course of action is clear.
If she gets hurt, that's on her for being reckless enough to accept the task.
My heart doesn't believe that for a second, but I'm ignoring it.
I cross the walkway to where she's organizing maintenance tools. She senses my approach and straightens, still not quite meeting my eyes.
"Lenna."
There's that flutter again—subtle, barely visible, but I'm watching for it now. The way her breath catches. The slight tension that runs through her frame. Like hearing her name from me triggers something she can't quite control.
She finally looks up, and her brown eyes are carefully neutral. "Yes?"
I gesture toward Azhrael's enclosure. "He needs to be bridled and taken to the feeding pasture. He's refusing to cooperate."
Her gaze flicks past me to where the beast is still prowling along the edge of his containment field. "And you want me to do what?"
"I want you to approach him. See if he'll accept the bridle from you."
"I don't know how to bridle an infernal beast."
"You won't be doing it yourself. You'll simply get close enough to keep him calm while I complete the process." I keep my tone even, professional. Like this is a routine task rather than something that could result in her being torn apart."He responds to your presence. That makes you useful in this context."
She studies me for a long moment, and I can see the calculation happening behind her eyes. Weighing the danger against the implicit threat of refusal. Wondering if this is a test or just another way for me to assert control.
"Fine," she finally says.
No fear in her voice. Just that same steady pragmatism that makes her either remarkably brave or remarkably stupid.
I should warn her. Explain exactly how dangerous this is. Outline the ways Azhrael could kill her before I'd have time to intervene.
Instead, I just turn and walk toward the enclosure, trusting she'll follow.
She does.
The barrier drops, and every instinct I possess riots against this decision.
My hand stays raised, magic holding the containment field open, and something primal claws its way up my spine screamingwrong wrong wrong. The kind of visceral wrongness that has nothing to do with tactical assessment and everything to do with base-level alarm I can't rationalize away.
I shouldn't be doing this.
I shouldn't be letting her walk into an enclosure with a creature that could obliterate her before I could pull her back out. Shouldn't be trusting Azhrael's unusual behavior around her when I don't understand it. Shouldn't be risking a human laborer who's already demonstrated she has no concept of appropriate self-preservation just because my beast refuses to cooperate with me.
But I don't stop it.
I stand there, barrier open, watching her move forward with that same steady confidence that makes my jaw clench.She doesn't hesitate. Doesn't glance back at me for reassurance or instruction. Just walks through the threshold into Azhrael's space like she's done it a hundred times before.
My magic coils tighter, ready to slam the containment field back up or pull her out orsomethingif this goes wrong. My focus narrows to the exact distance between her and the beast, calculating reaction times, measuring angles of approach. Every muscle in my body is locked in readiness, prepared to dive between them if Azhrael so much as shifts wrong.
I shouldn't care this much.
One human. One laborer who's been here less than two weeks and has done nothing but cause problems since she arrived. Who looks at me with poorly concealed hatred and defies every reasonable boundary I try to establish. Who somehow made my most dangerous beast refuse my commands and turned my stable operations into chaos.
