Page 70 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

“I need to verify this,” I said, and rerolled the parchment. “There should be markings in the old library that correspond to these passages—references in the ancient texts. If I can confirm even one of these pathways exists…”

Melo nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” I decided suddenly. “Stay here and prepare what we might need for escape. If this is real, we’ll have only minutes to act tonight.” I met her eyes. “If anyone asks for me, make excuses. I need to be alone.”

She frowned. “After last night’s wandering, that’s unwise.”

“Please, Melo,” I insisted. “I’ll be careful. This is too important—we need to know if these pathways are real before we risk everything.”

Reluctantly, she agreed, shifting back to fox form and curling on a cushion. “One hour. Then I come looking.”

I sneaked from my chambers, the guards falling into step behind me at a respectful distance. With a casual gesture that I’d practiced for days, I created a subtle pulse of light magic that disoriented them momentarily—the same technique Melo had taught me for emergencies—not enough to raise alarm, but enough to let me slip away at the next intersection. When I walked, I weighed Lady Narin’s offer against the risk of remaining. Could I trust Hakan to find another way? Did I dare trust anyone in this palace of shadows?

A familiar tug pulsed at the edge of my consciousness—our bond stirring as if responding to my deception—but I pushed the sensation aside.

I made my way toward the old library, avoiding the main corridors, using servants’ passages I’d observed since my arrival. If Narin’s information was correct, one of the hidden pathways should connect directly to the ancient archives—the forbidden section that contained texts from before the separation of realms.

Lost in thought, I turned down a corridor I’d never explored before, drawn by some inexplicable pull. The passage narrowed, the light dimming, until I found myself in a section that seemed older than the rest. Ancient symbols decorated the walls—not the familiar runes of shadow magic, but something older, a hybrid script that contained elements of both shadow and light languages. I outlined the carvings, recognizing phrases that spoke of balance—knowledge from the forbidden texts Melo had made me study during our years in hiding, preparing for exactly this kind of situation.

The map in my sleeve warmed against my skin. I withdrew it cautiously, watching as the silver ink glowed brighter, responding to the ancient magic embedded in the walls, revealing passages that had been invisible before. The same shifting silver ink I’d noticed earlier now revealed new details,becoming more animated the closer it came to the ancient inscriptions.

“This is it,” I whispered, excitement building. “One of the entrances.” I traced over a symbol on the wall that matched one on the map. “The gate of equilibrium—one of the original doorways between worlds.” My heart raced when I realized the escape might truly be possible. “If I press here?—”

The tug at my consciousness suddenly blazed into full awareness—our bond flaring with recognition. A chill ran down my spine while shadows gathered and thickened at the end of the corridor. I sensed his presence before he spoke, the familiar tug of our connection alerting me even when I tried to conceal the map.

“Looking for something, wife?”

My blood froze at that voice. I turned slowly to see Hakan emerging from the shadows, his eyes cold as winter frost.

Hakan

Ada whirled toward me, color draining from her face. Her hands moved quickly to conceal something in the folds of her dress, and I was instantly fucking livid. In the dim light of the ancient corridor, her eyes were wide with unmistakable guilt.

My shadow vision pierced through the fabric of her dress, revealing the glint of silver ink against parchment—an enchanted map. Ancient pathways marked in script that seemed to pulse with its own light. So she hadn’t been sleepwalking at all.

“Hakan,” she breathed, and took an instinctive step back. “I was just?—”

“Exploring forbidden corridors in the oldest part of the palace?” I stalked closer, shadows coiling around me like hunting hounds. The pain in my chest sharpened when I approached her. “Try again.”

Her gaze darted past me, searching for escape. Finding none, she squared her shoulders. “I was sleepwalking.”

The excuse was so unexpected I nearly laughed. “Sleepwalking?”

“Yes.” Her chin lifted, defiance masking fear. “It used to happen when we were younger. You remember.”

I studied her face, searching for the lie. To my surprise, there was truth in her claim—she had suffered episodes of sleepwalking in the past. But her eyes now were too alert, too calculating.

“You expect me to believe you sleep walked to the one section of the palace that happens to contain ancient magic?” My voice dripped with skepticism.

“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” she replied, and feigned indifference. “But it’s the truth. I woke up here just moments before you arrived.”

I moved closer, deliberately invading her space. Her scent enveloped me—jasmine and light, with an undercurrent of fear she couldn’t quite hide. The dull ache in my chest intensified with proximity—a physical manifestation of our magical binding that had appeared after the ceremony. Part warning, part punishment, the pain flared whenever thoughts of harmingher crossed my mind. Since the wedding, the pain was more bearable when we were close, as though our bonded magic sought equilibrium.

The binding had created an unexpected connection beyond the pain—a magical tether that allowed me to sense her emotions and, at times, even glimpses of her surface thoughts. The strength of this link was something neither of us had fully anticipated, making it increasingly difficult to hide my true intentions from her, or hers from me.

“Show me what you’re hiding,” I demanded, and extended my hand.

“I’m not hiding anything,” she insisted, and took another step back until she hit the wall.

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