Page 78 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

I nodded, acknowledging both his warning and his promise to keep my secret.

When I made my way back toward Hakan’s chambers—my chambers now, I supposed—the weight of choices yet to be made pressed down on me. Martha and her dubious offer. Narin and her secret pathways. Hakan and his claims of protection.

And somewhere, beyond the shadow realm’s borders, those who needed me waited. My light. The only truth that mattered in this world of deception and half-truths.

Whatever came next, whatever choices I made, they would be for them. Always for them.

Hakan

Istood in the shadow of an ancient oak, concealed from the courtyard below where Ada moved among a group of shadow children. For once, the persistent ache in my chest was noticeably absent. Strange.

Since our binding, the pain had become a constant companion, flaring whenever my thoughts turned dark or whenever I used words or magic to cause her pain. What puzzled me was its sudden disappearance when she was happy, as if her joy somehow neutralized whatever magic punished me for my cruelty. Watching her laugh while she conjured small orbs of light for the delighted children, I felt only an unfamiliar hollowness where the ache should be.

The children—orphans and castoffs, the unwanted of the shadow realm—gazed at her with undisguised wonder. She glowed in their presence, her light magic creating dancing patterns that they tried to catch with eager hands. Shadows couldn’t harm her light; they simply passed through, creating mesmerizing patterns that had the children squealing with delight.

Five days had passed since that night when we both gave in to the temptation of old memories, since I’d felt her light respond to my shadows in ways that both thrilled and terrified me. She’d slept next to me, and these had been the most restful days that I’d had in the past five years. Of course, we maintained careful distance, pretending that night meant nothing to both of us. Yet here I stood, watching her like some lovesick fool, trying to understand the connection between her happiness and that fucking pain—or lack thereof.

“Stalking your wife again? That’s not creepy at all.”

I didn’t turn, then Sarp materialized beside me, his ability to move silently rivaling even my own. “I’m observing,” I corrected, my attention still fixed on Ada. “There’s a difference.”

“Ah, yes. ‘Observing.’ Much more dignified.” Sarp leaned against the tree trunk, following my gaze. “Though I suppose hiding in the shadows while staring intensely at someone does technically qualify as observation. In the same way that a predator observes its prey before pouncing.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” I growled, not bothering to glance back at him.

“Only when something truly extraordinary happens,” Sarp quipped. “Like witnessing you smile, for instance.” He squinted at me. “Speaking of which, you look less murderous than usual. Did someone accidentally wish you good morning and live to tell about it?”

I ignored his baiting, focusing instead on the peculiar absence of pain. “Something’s happening with the binding.”

Sarp’s expression shifted, humor giving way to genuine interest. “How so?”

“The pain is gone.” I pressed a hand to my chest, still marveling at the sensation. “When she’s like this—happy, unguarded—I don’t feel it.”

“Fascinating.” For once, Sarp didn’t follow with a joke. “The binding magic responds to her emotional state. That could be useful information.”

Below, Ada had created a crown of light for one of the smallest children, a girl with unusually pale skin even for the shadow realm. The child beamed, touching the glowing circlet with reverent fingers.

“She’s good with them,” Sarp observed casually. “Ever think about having your own? You and Ada seemed?—”

“Hard fucking pass,” I cut him off, the words sharp as broken glass, even when something twisted painfully in my chest watching her gentleness with the children. I pushed the feeling away ruthlessly. I could never be a father. I didn’t want an offspring who my father could use as a weapon against me or as an excuse to avoid handing me what was rightfully mine. And after seeing what my choices had done to Ada, how could I risk inflicting similar damage on an innocent child?

Sarp raised an eyebrow. “Just asking. Most people eventually want offspring. Even shadow lords, presumably.”

“I’d rather be sterile than take a chance at being a father,” I said, disgust evident in my tone. “What kind of legacy would I leave a child? Darkness and cruelty? My father’s poison runs in my veins, Sarp. I’m too toxic, too tainted to even consider it.”

“You’re not your father, Hakan.”

“Aren’t I?” I met his gaze. “Every day, I feel myself becoming more like him. More ruthless. More willing to sacrifice others for power.” My focus drifted back to Ada. “More capable of hurting those I—” I stopped. I wasn’t willing to complete the thought.

Understanding flickered across Sarp’s face, but mercifully, he didn’t push. Instead, he followed my gaze to the courtyard, where something had changed. Beside Ada, barely visible in the shadow of a column, stood a tall, graceful woman with flame-red hair.

“Is that—” I began.

“Melo,” Sarp breathed, his posture suddenly alert, resembling a hunter who’s spotted rare prey. He inhaled deeply, as if trying to catch her scent even from this distance. He was a fucking fool, too, falling for a woman who could never be his.

“She’s showing herself more frequently,” I noted, and watched his reaction with interest. “The binding must have weakened whatever spell restricted her to fox form.”

Sarp’s attention never left her, hunger evident in his gaze. “She’s magnificent.”

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