Page 13 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"Beautiful," he murmurs, and the word carries weight when he says it. "Any man would die for the chance to call you his."
He leans forward slowly, his eyes never leaving mine—not asking permission so much as giving me the chance to refuse him. When he presses his lips to my cheek, the kiss is controlled, restrained, but I can feel the hunger beneath it.
But even as I lean into the careful strength of his touch, even as part of me craves the safety his darkness promises, something deep inside me screams in protest. The wrongness intensifies until it's almost physical pain, as if accepting even this restrained claim would be a betrayal of someone whose face I can't remember but whose absence leaves me hollow.
When he finally steps back, Sinan's eyes hold a possessive gleam that should alarm me. "I can wait," he says simply. "But not forever. Whatever haunts you, whatever you're running from—I can handle it. There's nothing in this world or any other that I wouldn't face to keep you safe."
I nod, not trusting my voice, and we walk back toward the village in tense silence. But my mind is anything but quiet. The controlled kiss on my cheek awakens something that I'm trying to ignore—memories that hover just beyond reach, emotions that belong to a life I can't recall.
Dark eyes burning with possessive fire. Hands that claimed my skin with dark ownership. A voice like silk and smoke whispering promises of forever that made my soul sing with recognition.
Someone owned me once—someone who may still be hunting for what was taken from him.
And I've just let another predator mark me as his territory.
The wrongness sits in my stomach like swallowed stones, growing heavier with each step—not guilt exactly, but an inexplicable certainty that accepting Sinan's protection would somehow be a betrayal of bonds forged in shadow and flame. By the time we reach Mira's cottage, I feel sick with self-recrimination and confusion.
"I should help with the wounded," I say quickly, needing to escape the intensity of Sinan's gaze and my own traitorous thoughts.
"Of course." His smile is slow, knowing. "I'll find you tonight. We have more to discuss."
It's not a request, and we both know it. I watch him walk away, noting how others step aside without conscious thought, responding to something hunting in his bearing that my conscious mind hadn't fully registered until now.
The afternoon passes in a blur of healing work. Two villagers and one of the wounded bandits suffer injuries during the attack—nothing life-threatening, thanks to Sinan's quick intervention, but enough to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied.The familiar warmth flows through my palms as I mend cuts and bruises, the golden light that emerges when I heal seems brighter somehow, more controlled than usual. Through the cottage windows, I notice clouds beginning to gather on the western horizon, matching the growing unease in my chest as the bright afternoon light slowly dims.
It's only when I'm treating the final patient—the young bandit who took a pommel strike to the temple—that I notice her.
She's standing at the edge of the cottage garden, partially hidden behind the herb drying racks, watching me work with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness. Small and delicate, with silver hair that catches the afternoon light and eyes the color of spring leaves. Beautiful in an otherworldly way that seems to defy normal human limitations.
My breath catches in my throat. Somehow, impossibly, I know what she is—the knowledge sits in my mind like a half-remembered song. Fairy. The word surfaces from some deep place untouched by whatever stole my memories, carrying with it a certainty I can't explain. I don't remember learning about fairies, don't recall any tales or stories, yet I recognize her as surely as I recognize sunlight or rain.
"Mira," I call softly, not wanting to startle my patient but unable to keep the wonder from my voice. "Is that…is that a fairy?"
Mira looks up from organizing her medical supplies, following my gaze to the figure by the garden. Her face creases with concern as she sets down her mortar and pestle.
"Stay here with him," she says, nodding toward my patient. "I'll see what she wants."
Mira steps outside, her voice carrying through the open door. "Can I help you, child?"
The stranger steps forward hesitantly, her movements carrying an otherworldly grace that confirms my suspicion that she's not entirely human. Even from inside, I can see her clothes are simple but well-made, travel-worn but of good quality. Everything about her speaks of careful planning, of someone who's journeyed far for a specific purpose.
"Hello," she says, and her voice has the musical quality of wind chimes in a gentle breeze. "My name is Banu. I'm looking for someone—a dear friend who may have lost her way. She would be staying somewhere safe, somewhere she could heal. A woman with child, perhaps, who might not remember her own name."
I find myself moving closer to the doorway, my heart racing as each detail strikes uncomfortably close to my own situation.
The golden light fades from my hands as the healing completes itself, the swelling around my patient's temple receding as his eyes flutter open with renewed clarity. Unable to stop myself, I step outside, still wiping my hands on a cloth. The moment the fairy sees me, her green eyes widen with a mixture of hope and desperate recognition. She takes a step closer, studying my features intently before her breath catches.
"Thank the gods," she breathes, her voice trembling with relief and shock. "Nesilhan. I found you. My god, I'm lucky to be alive—he's been hunting for you everywhere."
The word sends a shiver through my entire being, awakening something deep and forgotten. That name…that name means something. Something important and terrible and beautiful all at once.
"I'm sorry," I manage, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I'm Elif. I think you have me confused with someone else."
The devastation that crosses the fairy's face is so complete, so utterly heartbroken, that I almost take back my words. She stares at me for a long moment, her green eyes searching myfeatures with desperate intensity, looking for something she clearly doesn't find. Her gaze drops to my stomach, lingering there with a mixture of shock and something else—fear? Recognition?—before she shakes her head.
Suddenly, her silver hair begins to flash different colors—deep green, then gold, then back to silver—as if her emotions are manifesting physically. She seems to be having some sort of internal battle, her delicate features contorting with the effort of controlling whatever force is building within her.
"Get inside," Mira says sharply from behind me, her voice cutting through my fascination. "Now, Elif."
