Page 105 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

"They were for…for my light magic," Kiraz said. "Very 'important."

Despite myself, my lips twitched toward a smile. The child was incorrigible but undeniably clever.

"Out," Nadine ordered, and pointed toward the door. "Back to the cottage. Straight to the herb room."

Kiraz trudged toward the door with the air of one marching to execution but paused beside me. "Your shadows are getting stronger," she observed quietly, her expression suddenly serious, the childish mischief replaced by something unsettlingly mature. "That's good. The bad men are coming, and you'll need them."

Then she was gone, leaving me staring after her with an unsettled feeling in my chest. How could a child—a light realm child at that—see my shadows so clearly? And how did she know about "bad men" coming? Was it just a child's imagination or something more? I'd learned long ago not to dismiss warnings, no matter how unlikely their source. If Midas's generals were regrouping faster than we anticipated, or if my father had somehow learned of my injury and defection…either possibility meant time was running dangerously short.

"We need to discuss our situation," I said once Nadine had followed her out, and turned to the others. "If Midas's forces are regrouping, we can't linger here. This village is too exposed, too easily found."

"You're in no condition to travel," Ada countered. "Neither is Sarp. Your shadows are barely functional, and the binding between us is still unstable after what happened during the battle."

The mention of the binding brought back flashes of memory—our souls touching, memories and emotions flowing between us unfiltered. I pushed them aside, focusing on the tactical situation.

"I won't endanger these people," I said. "If Midas's generals track us here?—"

"They'd be outmatched," Sarp interrupted, unexpectedly supportive of Ada's position. "Between you, Ada, Melo, and Nadine, this is possibly the most magically formidable location in either realm right now. And that's not counting the village's own protections."

"We need time," Ada insisted. "Time for you to heal properly, time to understand what happened with the binding during the battle."

I wanted to argue further, but exhaustion was already draining my shadows, my brief excursion having depleted mylimited reserves. And beyond the tactical considerations, there was the strange child—Kiraz—and the inexplicable pull I felt toward her.

"Three days," I conceded with reluctance. I recalled ancient shadow healing principles. "Three is the optimal number for initial shadow regeneration. We rest, we recover, we gather intelligence. Then we return to the shadow realm, regardless of our condition. Any longer risks my father dispatching his own forces to find us."

What I didn't say was that part of me—a part I barely recognized—was reluctant to leave at all. Something about this place, about Kiraz's fearless eyes and Ada's complex expressions when she looked at her "niece," tugged at instincts I'd thought long buried.

The child unsettled me in ways I couldn't rationalize. Her mannerisms, her fearlessness, the stubborn set of her jaw—all seemed strangely familiar, though I couldn't place why. And those shadows dancing across her small palm—hereditary magic that shouldn't be possible in a light realm child, unless through some ancient bloodline connection I wasn't aware of. Something about the timing nagged at me, too, though I couldn't quite grasp what.

The sensation was foreign, unsettling. A possibility lurked at the edges of my thoughts, one I refused to entertain. Some connections were too dangerous to acknowledge, too devastating to consider. I'd built my existence on certainties, on facts I could control and manipulate. This felt like stepping into quicksand.

Three days to recover my strength. Three days to avoid the truth that clawed at my consciousness. Three days to maintain the lie I'd built my sanity upon.

I had the distinct, uncomfortable feeling that time was running out—not just for our tactical advantage, but for something far more personal that I couldn't yet name.

Ada

"See what I made!" Kiraz burst into the main room of Nadine's cottage, proudly holding up a lopsided crown of wildflowers. At barely five years old, her coordination was still developing, but her enthusiasm made up for any lack of precision. "It's a magic crown!"

Nadine smiled, pausing her work grinding herbs at the kitchen table. "It'sbeautiful little one. Who's it for?"

"For the grumpy shadow man," Kiraz announced with absolute certainty. "He needs to be prettier."

I nearly choked on my tea. "Kiraz, you can't just call him grumpy?—"

"But he is grumpy, Ada," she insisted with five-year-old logic, carefully using my name as we'd practiced. "His shadows are all twisty when he's sad. The crown will make them happy."

Iris, who had been quietly mending in the corner, hid a smile behind her needlework. "Perhaps we should visit the healing house," she suggested diplomatically. "I need to check on the patients anyway."

"Can we? Can we?" Kiraz bounced on her toes, clutching the flower crown carefully. "I want to see Uncle Sarp too! And give this to the shadow lord."

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to keep Kiraz away from Hakan as much as possible, but her eager face and the innocent flower crown in her hands made refusal seem churlish. Besides, supervised visits in daylight seemed safer than the alternative of her sneaking off to see them on her own.

"Very well," I agreed. "But only for a short visit. And you must be polite to our guests."

"I'm always polite," Kiraz declared with wounded dignity, then immediately contradicted herself by adding, "Even when they're grumpy and growly."

Twenty minutes later, we stood outside the healing house. Kiraz practically vibrated with excitement, the flower crown held reverently in both hands.

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