Page 120 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"This isn't your choice to make," she interrupts with absolute authority. "We're partners in this. Whatever response we choose, we choose together."
"Partners don't mean you throw yourself into danger for no fucking reason," I snap.
"And partners don't get to make unilateral decisions about what the other can handle," she fires back.
Looking at her—fierce determination blazing in her golden eyes, protective hands cradling our child, ready to fight for our future despite everything—I'm reminded why arguing with her is usually futile. Not just her stubbornness, but her courage. Her absolute refusal to back down when something matters.
"Fine," I concede through gritted teeth. "But carefully. And with enough guards to repel a small army."
"Naturally," she agrees. "Though I should point out that pregnancy has slowed me down, I still remember where to put a blade for maximum effect."
"This one time she did take out one bandit in that village while having no memory of her training," Banu adds helpfully. "Very impressive. Pure instinct and a kitchen knife."
"That's not helping," I growl at the fairy.
"I thought it was encouraging," Banu replies innocently.
"Shall I convene the war council for this afternoon?" Emir asks, wisely steering us back to practical matters. "I need time to gather the other lords and compile our latest intelligence reports."
"Do that," I agree. "And Emir? Make sure Lord Zohan receives a personal invitation. I think it's time we had a frank family discussion about loyalty and the consequences of betrayal. Also, double the palace guard and have evacuation protocols ready—if they're escalating to justify invasion, I want Nesilhan protected."
"With pleasure, my lord."
As they move toward the door, Banu flutters close to Emir's ear and whispers just loud enough for us to catch, "Well, at least someone's going to get royally screwed today, and it won't be us thanks to all this political bullshit."
Emir's face goes bright red as he clears his throat loudly. "Banu," he warns under his breath.
"What? I was clearly referring to how the Light Court is screwing us over diplomatically," she replies with mock innocence, though her smirk is absolutely wicked.
As they leave—Emir muttering something about "impossible fairies" while Banu giggles—I turn back to Nesilhan, who's already moving toward her wardrobe. "Are you certain about this?" I ask quietly. "Getting involved, I mean. You could stay safe here while I handle the politics."
She pauses, one hand resting on her belly, and gives me a look that could cut glass. "Kaan," she says gently, "I didn't survive assassination attempts, amnesia, demon realm politics, and your father's hospitality just to hide in a tower when things get complicated. We're in this together."
"Together," I agree reluctantly, crossing to her and pulling her back against my chest, one arm wrapping protectively around her and our child.
But as I hold her close, feeling our child's steady heartbeat through our bond, I can't shake Erlik's parting words: Distance matters so little when the connection runs deep enough.
Whatever game my father set in motion during that ritual, whatever price we paid for my freedom, it's about to come due.
And I have the terrible suspicion that the real war hasn't even begun yet.
40
The Shadow Ball
Nesilhan
The Shadow Court has been transformed into something that would make angels weep with envy. Crystal chandeliers hang like frozen waterfalls from the vaulted ceiling, their light refracting through obsidian columns to create dancing patterns of silver and gold across the marble floors. Banu has outdone herself—every detail speaks of celebration, carefully orchestrated to project strength and stability to both allies and enemies.
"You know," Banu says, fluttering around me with the focused intensity of a general preparing for battle, "when I suggested this ball, I thought it would be a lovely way to celebrate your pregnancy and the recent peace. I didn't expect it to become a political chess match disguised as a party."
Elçin, positioned near the chamber's entrance, speaks without turning from her surveillance of the corridor. "In my experience, celebrations and warfare have always been closely related. The main difference is the quality of the wine and whether people admit they're carrying weapons." Her storm-gray eyes flick to me briefly. "Though I notice several guests tonight who seem to think formal attire makes blades invisible."
"Everything is politics when you're married to the Shadow Lord," I reply, studying my reflection in the floor-length mirror. The gown Banu selected is a masterpiece of diplomatic messaging—a midnight blue silk that accommodates my growing belly, while the silver embroidery catches the light like captured starlight. Elegant enough for the highest nobility, practical enough for someone who might need to move quickly if the evening goes badly.
"True," she agrees, adjusting the silver circlet that marks me as the Shadow Lady. "Though I have to say, motherhood has sharpened your edges rather than softened them. Most women glow—you burn."
"The effect is also advantageous," Elçin adds with detachment. "Pregnant women are often underestimated in combat situations. People assume vulnerability where there might be a considerable threat." She pauses, her warrior's instincts clearly engaged. "Though I'd prefer if we didn't have to test that theory tonight."
