Page 106 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

"Remember," I warned quietly, "short visit."

Kiraz nodded solemnly, then burst through the door the moment I opened it.

"Uncle Sarp! Grumpy shadow man! Look what I made!"

Inside the healing room, I found Hakan sitting by the window, shadows drifting lazily around his fingers as he regained his strength. Sarp was propped up in his bed, looking considerably better than he had yesterday but still pale beneath his bandages.

Hakan glanced up, startled by Kiraz's enthusiastic entrance and her continued use of "grumpy shadow man" as his title.

"I don't wear…decorations," he said with stiff formality, eyeing the flower crown with obvious wariness.

Kiraz was undeterred. She marched across the room and held out her creation. "It makes you the king of flowers. You have to wear it."

I bit my lip to suppress a smile at Hakan's obvious discomfort. The mighty Shadow Lord, feared across both realms, brought low by a child with a flower crown.

"I am already lord of an entire realm," he informed her with wounded dignity. "I don't require additional titles."

Kiraz's lower lip trembled—a warning sign I recognized all too well.

"Perhaps just for a moment," I suggested gently. "Since she made it especially for you."

Hakan shot me a glance of such profound betrayal that I nearly laughed aloud. Then, with the air of a man facing execution, he inclined his head so Kiraz could place the wildflower crown atop his dark hair.

"There!" Kiraz clapped her hands in delight. "Now you're pretty!"

Sarp, still bedridden from his wounds but never too injured for mockery, made a choking sound. "The prettiest Shadow Lord in all the realms," he agreed solemnly. "Truly fearsome."

Hakan's glare promised retribution when Sarp was well enough to defend himself. "Thank you," he said to Kiraz with surprising grace. "It's…colorful."

Kiraz beamed, then immediately turned her attention to Sarp, climbing onto his bed with the easy familiarity they'd developed since meeting the day before. "Uncle Sarp, will you tell me the story about the fox and the moon again?"

"Of course, little terror," Sarp agreed, his eyes crinkling with genuine affection. He shifted to make room for her beside him, wincing slightly but hiding the pain well.

Something dark flashed across Hakan's expression as he watched them—a flicker of what could only be jealousy at the easy rapport between Sarp and Kiraz.

"Kiraz," I intervened, noticing Hakan's rising tension, "perhaps we should let Sarp rest. He's still healing."

"I'm never too injured for my favorite storyteller," Sarp countered, ruffling Kiraz's dark hair affectionately. "And she promised to bring me fresh honey water after the story. Best medicine in both realms."

Hakan abruptly stood, removing the flower crown and placing it on the table with controlled precision. "I need air," he announced, striding toward the door.

"Can I come?" Kiraz asked, hopping down from Sarp's bed with unexpected agility. "I want to show you my special place!"

Sarp's face fell slightly as she abandoned their planned story time, though he tried to hide his disappointment behind a forced smile.

Hakan hesitated, clearly torn between his desire for solitude and some inexplicable pull toward the child. "If you wish," he finally said, his tone carefully neutral.

"I'll join you," I said, alarmed at the thought of Kiraz alone with Hakan. The less time they spent together without me as a buffer, the better.

I caught Sarp's eye as we prepared to leave, giving him a meaningful look that conveyed both apology and acknowledgment of the precarious situation. His slight nod toldme he understood—he knew exactly why I couldn't let Hakan and Kiraz spend time alone together.

Outside, the afternoon sun bathed the village in golden light. Kiraz skipped ahead, occasionally stopping to point out things of supreme importance to a five-year-old: a uniquely shaped rock, a butterfly with spotted wings, a puddle she claimed looked “exactly like Uncle Sarp’s nose when he’s sleeping.”

“She’s quite attached to him,” Hakan observed, a sharp edge beneath the casual observation. “Despite having just met.”

“Kiraz bonds quickly with people who treat her with kindness,” I replied, careful to keep my tone light. “Sarp has a way with children.”

“Apparently.” His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “And I don’t?”

---