Page 62 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

“None of this can end well.” I moved toward the door, each step bringing me closer to my own execution. “Seven weeks, Sarp. Seven weeks to figure out if there’s any way to save her, or if I’m going to have to watch the woman I love die by my own hand.”

The words settled in the silence, a confession finally voiced, the first time I’d spoken the truth aloud. I loved her. Despite everything, despite the lies and manipulation and the terrible knowledge of what was to come, I loved Ada more than I’d ever thought possible.

And in seven weeks, I was going to kill her.

The bond between us pulsed with her growing anxiety, her desperate need to understand what was happening. She could feel my anguish, my despair, but not the reason for it. Not yet.

“Find those texts,” I told Sarp. “Find them tonight. Because if we don’t discover another path soon, I’m going to lose everything that matters.”

When I left the study, I could hear Sarp already moving, picking books from shelves, searching for any scrap of hope inthe ancient writings. But even his fierce determination couldn’t quiet the voice in my head that whispered the truth:

Ada was going to die, and I was going to be the one to kill her.

The only question left was whether I’d find a way to die alongside her, or if I’d be forced to live with the knowledge of what I’d done forever.

Ada

Iwas halfway to his private wing when a hand caught my arm, dragging me into an alcove. “Bad idea, starlight,” Sarp murmured, and released me once we were hidden from passing guards. “Trust me.”

“I need to speak with him,” I insisted.

“No, you don’t.” Sarp’s usual sarcasm was absent, replaced by genuine concern. “He’s been drinking shadow spirits since he returned from seeing his father. He’s in a spectacularly foul mood.”

“Good.” I moved to leave, but Sarp blocked my path. “I mean good that he’s in a bad mood.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Hakan…isn’t himself when he drinks. The control he maintains so carefully? Gone.” His eyes held mine, uncharacteristically serious. “Those spirits are his darkness that rushes through his veins, freezing what little humanity he has left.”

A chill ran through me, but I pushed past him anyway. “I can handle him.”

“When he inevitably loses control, remember I warned you.” Sarp sighed dramatically. “Also, aim for his left side—an old injury that never healed properly.”

I found Hakan in his private gardens, a twisted Eden of shadow-blooms and ancient trees whose branches seemed to reach for me as if they were grasping fingers. He sat on a stone bench, a bottle of dark liquid dangling from his fingers, head bowed. Frost covered the ground at his feet, spreading outward with each passing moment.

“Come to gloat?” he asked, his voice slurred with drink.

“Celebrating something?” I countered, and took in the scene.

He laughed, the sound bitter and broken. “Mourning, actually.”

“Whose death?” I stepped closer. Something in his tone triggered unease that made my heart race.

“Yours.”

I went very still, my mind struggling to process what he’d just said. “What?”

He met my gaze, and in his eyes I saw something I’d never seen before—genuine anguish, the kind that came from having your soul torn apart.

“The Crown of Ashes Ritual, Ada. My father’s grand design.” He stood, and swayed slightly, moving toward me with that predatory grace that alcohol couldn’t quite suppress. “It requires your death.”

The pieces clicked together with horrible clarity—the binding, the timeline, his father’s interest in my bloodline. “I don’t understand,” I whispered, though I was beginning to.

“The winter solstice. Two weeks from now.” He caged me against the wall, his arms on either side of my head, his scent surrounding me—shadow spirits and darkness and despair. “Your light will be consumed completely. Drained to strengthen the shadow realm and fulfill my father’s revenge against your father.”

My legs went weak. Two weeks. Two weeks and then…nothing. All my plans to escape, to return to Kiraz, to build a life away from this nightmare—meaningless.

“And you…you knew this all along?” The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound.

“I suspected. But I didn’t know for certain until today.” His voice was rough, broken. “My father made it very clear. Your death is not negotiable.”

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