Page 34 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

And somewhere deep inside, beneath layers of shadow and cruelty, a part of me mourned what we had once been—and what we could never be again.

Ada

Three days had passed since Hakan’s brutal invasion of my mind in the dungeon. Three days of trembling hands and fractured sleep, my thoughts splintering and scattering every time I tried to piece them together. The binding between us pulsed with residual pain—not the dull ache I’dgrown accustomed to, but sharp spikes that left me gasping when I least expected them.

I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. I flinched at every shadow in my peripheral vision. The sound of footsteps in the corridor sent my heart racing, my body preparing for flight even when logic told me I was safe in my chambers.

But one certainty sustained me through the wreckage of my mind: he hadn’t found Kiraz. Despite tearing through my consciousness with the subtlety of a blade through silk, despite reducing me to that broken, babbling thing Sarp had found curled on cold stone, the ancient protections held. My daughter remained hidden, her existence shielded by magic older and more sacred than the shadow lord’s fury.

Years ago, after I’d recovered enough from my breakdown to think clearly, I’d sought help from Tolga, an elder who had served my father. With Nadine’s assistance, we’d performed an ancient ritual invoking Umay Ana, the goddess of motherhood and protection.

“We must create the gözboncugu of the soul,” Tolga had explained, his weathered hands arranging seven blue candles in the pattern of the North Star. “Just as the evil eye amulet deflects malevolent gazes, this ritual will shield your daughter from magical sight.”

We had worked through three nights of the crescent moon, weaving light magic with strands of my hair and drops of my blood. I’d sung the ancient lullabies of the light-bearers when Tolga cast protective runes around us.

“The binding is sealed with Umay’s blessing,” Tolga had said when we finished, his eyes grave in the candlelight. “It can never be broken, but neither can it be penetrated. Your child will be hidden from all who seek her through magical means—even Erlik himself cannot breach walls protected by Umay Ana.”

Now, touching my temple where phantom pain still echoed from his assault, I whispered a prayer of gratitude to the goddess. Whatever the cost to my own mind, Kiraz remained safe.

I dressed carefully, each movement deliberate as I worked to steady my still-trembling fingers. The simple act of choosing clothes, of covering the bruises his grip had left on my wrists, felt like reclaiming some small piece of control. Melo watched from her perch by the window, her turquoise eyes troubled.

“You’re not sleeping at all now,” she observed, but her tone was gentler than usual.

“Sleep brings dreams,” I replied and left it at that. The nightmares were worse than the exhaustion—fragments of shadow seeping into my mind, the sensation of my thoughts being sifted and sorted by invisible hands. “I’m managing.”

“Ada…” Melo’s ears flattened against her head. “What he did to you…that wasn’t interrogation. That was torture.”

I paused in brushing my hair, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “I know what it was.” My tone of voice came out steadier than I felt. “But I survived it. And more importantly, he learned nothing.”

“At what cost?” she pressed. “You haven’t been the same since?—”

"I've been through worse," I cut her off, though the words were bitter poison on my tongue. The breakdown after Hakan’s betrayal, years lost to madness—those had been different kinds of destruction. This felt more…invasive. Like he’d left pieces of shadow lodged in my thoughts, whispers I couldn’t quite silence.

“I need air,” I said abruptly, heading for the door. “I’m going to the gardens.”

The guards exchanged glances before one nodded. “Stay within the south perimeter, my lady.”

“I’ll come with you,” Melo offered.

I shook my head. My responses came with noticeable delays, as if I had to fight through fog to process Melo's simple offer. My eyes lost focus mid-conversation, staring at nothing while my fingers traced unconscious patterns on my arm—self-soothing that spoke to the deep psychological damage still lingering from Hakan's brutal invasion of my mind. “No, I…I need to be alone for a while.”

The gardens offered little solace, every blooming thing reminding me of Kiraz. I wandered aimlessly, keeping to the shadows to avoid the scorching heat. Eventually, I discovered an older section overgrown with wild roses and ancient yew trees.

The air felt different here—heavy with secrets. I traced the pattern of the hayat agaci, the Tree of Life, in the dust at my feet, following an instinct I couldn’t name. My light magic awakened, hunger sharpening its edges.

Near a crumbling wall, something caught my eye—a peculiar shimmer in the air with pattern and structure. A concealment spell.

“Light sees through all disguises, little one,” my father had taught me.

I closed my eyes, recalling his exact words: “Where shadow hides, light reveals. Where darkness conceals, brightness unveils.”

This was more than training; it was the essence of what we were.

I raised my hand to send a pulse of light magic into the concealment, but faltered, my concentration fragmenting from the lingering damage to my mind.

"I can't hold the image," I whispered to myself, frustration clear in my voice. "Everything keeps slipping away."

The magic flickered weakly before dying entirely, leaving me staring at my trembling fingers in confusion. I pressed my palm against the shimmering air again, forcing myself to focus despitethe fog clouding my thoughts. The magic resisted fiercely, repelling me with shadow enchantments that stung my skin and tried to blind my senses.

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