Page 51 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

I turned with deliberate slowness, shadows coiling around me as agitated serpents. "What did you say?"

“I said no.” Sarp folded his arms, entirely unconcerned by my display of power. “I’m not leaving you alone with him. You’re too emotional right now.”

“I am not fucking?—”

“You’re practically freezing the room solid,” he interrupted, and gestured to the ice crystals forming on our breath and the way moisture in the stone walls had begun to crystallize.

I did that subconsciously and he had to fucking point it out.

“And while I generally appreciate your flair for the dramatic, if you kill him too quickly, we learn nothing. So I’m staying.”

We locked eyes, a silent battle of wills that would have sent any other member of my court fleeing in terror. Sarp just waited, one eyebrow slightly raised, as though dealing with a temperamental child rather than the heir to the Shadow Throne. I didn’t want to kill him, I liked Sarp too much, but he was becoming increasingly annoying.

“Fine,” I growled finally, and turned back to the assassin. “But stay out of my way.”

“Always do,” Sarp replied cheerfully. He leaned against the wall. “Just think of me as your conscience. The one you ignore but can’t get rid of.”

The assassin’s resolve visibly weakened while he watched our exchange, perhaps realizing for the first time that he faced not just the legendary cruelty of the Shadow Prince but something more unpredictable.

I let the silence stretch, watching fear build in his eyes as he stared at the soul-trap. Then, just when his breathing became ragged with terror, I asked softly, “Last chance. Who sent you after my wife?”

He broke instantly. “Midas,” he admitted, the name barely audible. “Lord Midas sent us.”

Ice flooded my veins, though I’d suspected as much. “Why?”

“To…to draw you out. To test your reaction.” The words tumbled out now, desperate to appease. “He said you were compromised. That you cared too much for the light-bearer. He wanted proof to take to your father.”

My blood turned to arctic fire. If Midas convinced my father I was compromised, Erlik would either kill Ada outright or worse—use her in the ritual immediately, before I was ready to protect her through it.

“And what message were you to deliver?”

“Just words. To make it seem like it came from somewhere else. To hide his involvement.”

Fury built inside me, turning the air around us frigid. Midas had used Ada as bait and had been willing to sacrifice her to prove a point about my emotional state. Had sought to harm what was mine.

“Told you,” Sarp said quietly.

“Told me what?” I snapped, not taking my eyes off the assassin.

“That you care about her.” He stepped closer, and he lowered his voice. “That this isn’t just about possession or the ritual anymore. You give a damn what happens to Ada.”

“She’s necessary for my plans—the ritual.”

“Bullshit.” The casual profanity cut through my carefully constructed facade. “I’ve known you too long, Hakan. I was there five years ago when you broke her heart to ‘protect’ her. I warned you then it was a mistake. I’m warning you now—don’t make the same one twice.”

My vision blurred, rage overtaking rational thought. The temperature plummeted until the assassin’s breath formed ice crystals in the air. My shadows responded to my fury, divingdeeper, finding every nerve, every sensitive point, every fear hidden in the darkest corners of his mind.

His screams faded into background noise while I systematically dismantled him from within. Not just his body—his mind, his soul, everything that made him who he was. I stripped away layers of identity until nothing remained but agony and terror in their purest forms.

The effort left a hollow ache behind my sternum—shadow magic always demanded payment, even from me. But seeing Ada’s blood on my clothes made any price worth paying.

When the assassin hung broken, I stepped back and sent my will through the shadow network. "Find Midas. Watch him. Learn everything. But don't harm him—that pleasure is mine."

Midas wasn’t powerful enough to face me directly—that’s why he used proxies and manipulation. But his position in court, his connections to my father, made him untouchable through confrontation. I would need to be clever about this.

“Clean this up,” I told the shadows. “Leave him alive—barely. When Midas finds what’s left, I want him to understand the message.”

“I’ll coordinate our spies on the ground,” Sarp said. He understood my intent. “The shadows can track him, but we’ll need eyes and ears for the details.”

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