Page 32 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

“We’ll see.”

I pressed my palm against the binding mark, sending my consciousness through our connection—not gently, not with care, but with brutal intent. The binding between us had three layers of protection, but my desperation and her weakened state from the assassination attempt had left her natural barriers compromised. Even so, her light instinctively fought back, and I felt the bond's protective magic stirring, preparing to punish me for this violation.

I could sense her emotions when she was unguarded, and tonight I might be able to delve deeper into her memories.

She gasped, her knees buckling when pain seared through our bond. I caught her, keeping her positioned on the bench as my shadows held her immobile. The binding's protective magic activated fully now, sending white-hot agony through my chest with each probe into her mind—punishment for using our connection to cause her suffering. The deeper I pushed, the more the ancient magic retaliated, but my desperate need for answers drove me past the pain.

"Stop," she gritted out, her body arching against my hold. "Hakan, stop?—"

I ignored her, forcing my way deeper into her consciousness, searching for what she hid. Her mind fought me, throwing up barrier after barrier. Impressively strong, but not enough. I battered through her defenses, catching flashes of memories?—

Images flooded my consciousness—fragmented, confusing flashes: Ada in unfamiliar white walls, looking hollow-eyed and thin; voices speaking in hushed, clinical tones, “The healing process will take time…” and “Trauma response is severe…”. Glimpses of her hands bound, though I couldn’t understand why?—

The scenes hit me with such force that I reeled back from the shock, though I maintained my grip on her through the shadow bonds. The images were fragmented, making little sense, but thepain in them was unmistakable. Something had happened to her after I’d driven her away—something that had required healers, that had left her looking broken in ways I didn’t understand.

“What happened to you?” The question escaped before I could stop it, my voice barely recognizable.

For a heartbeat, I saw myself as she must see me—the monster who had broken her, who now tore into her mind without consent, who treated her like a possession rather than the woman who had once held my heart.

She took advantage of my distraction, striking out with light magic that caught me across the chest, searing through my shirt to the skin beneath. I hissed when flesh burned, the scent filling the chamber. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly, light still flickering around her fingertips like she was ready to strike again.

Rage flared first—white-hot fury at her defiance, at the pain radiating across my burned skin. My shadows darkened instinctively, ready to lash out, to make her pay for daring to hurt me. But then something else stirred beneath the anger. She was magnificent like this—fierce and deadly, her power crackling in the air between us. Even broken, even terrified, she still fought back with everything she had.

The Ada I’d fallen in love with had been exactly this—unbreakable, defiant even in the face of impossible odds. Part of me had wondered if that fire had died completely, if I’d destroyed it along with everything else. But here she was, proving that some things couldn’t be extinguished no matter how much darkness tried to smother them.

“Fight all you want,” I snarled, and tightened my grip on her wrists until the delicate bones ground beneath my fingers. “I’ll have the truth from you.”

“Get out of my head!” She struggled against my shadows with frantic desperation.

I redoubled my efforts, forcing our connection wider, delving deeper into her memories, searching for whatever secret she was so desperately protecting. But she was fighting too hard, her light magic flaring in desperate defense of whatever secret she guarded. Every time I pushed toward certain memories, I was met with blinding walls of light that repelled my intrusion.

The barrier wasn’t just light magic—it was something more ancient, more powerful. Golden symbols pulsed within the light, arranged in patterns I didn’t recognize. This wasn’t just Ada’s magic; it had been strengthened by someone else, someone with deep knowledge of the old ways.

Behind that barrier, I sensed something precious—something Ada would die to protect. But it felt wrong for a lover. The energy was different, warmer somehow. Not romantic love, but something else entirely. Something pure and innocent and desperately important.

Fury surged through me at her resistance. “What are you hiding that’s worth this pain, Ada? Who helped you ward your memories so thoroughly?”

“Because you have no right,” she gasped, trembling with the effort of maintaining her mental shields. “No right to anything of mine anymore.”

I withdrew from her mind but maintained my physical hold, my shadows keeping her pinned to the bench. Blood trickled from her nose—testament to the mental battle we’d just fought.

“There are other ways to break you,” I said, my tone dangerously soft.

My shadows shifted, responding to my surge of anger and frustrated desire without conscious direction. They caressed her skin through the thin robe, and despite myself, my body responded. The scent of her, the memory of how she’d once welcomed my touch—it was torture. We still hadn’tconsummated our marriage, but part of me craved that final claiming, that irrevocable bond.

“Don’t you dare,” she breathed, eyes wide with fear.

“Your body remembers me.” I noted her involuntary responses. “Even if your heart belongs to whatever—whoever—you’re protecting.”

The shadows moved as if guided by invisible hands, responding to my deliberate control now rather than emotion. Each touch was a question, each caress a demand for truth. I wanted to break through her defenses, to understand what was so precious that she’d endure this agony to protect it.

“Tell me.” I brought her to the edge of response before withdrawing completely. “Tell me what you’re hiding, and this ends.”

“I won’t—” She panted, her body trembling with unfulfilled need and exhaustion. “I won’t give you anything.”

Again and again, I repeated the cycle. Push her to the brink, then deny release. Search her memories, encounter that impenetrable barrier. Each time, the strange resonance behind her shields grew stronger—something that felt both familiar and utterly foreign.

“This can continue all night,” I warned, and fought to maintain my composure as echoes of her need reverberated through our bond. “How long until you break, I wonder?”

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