Page 133 of Crown of Storm and Silence
General Altin's smile is smug as he gestures toward the doors. "Perhaps a demonstration would be more effective than words. Our field commanders have prepared a briefing you might find... illuminating."
I follow them outside, noting how Zohan trails behind like the broken creature he is. The tent they lead me to shouldn't exist on neutral ground—it's clearly a military command post, complete with Light Court banners and armed soldiers. The violation of neutral territory protocols is so blatant it's almost amusing.
Inside, a massive tactical map spreads across a wooden table. Red markers dot the landscape like drops of blood, and I feel my lips curve into a genuine smile as I recognize what they've done.
"While you were occupied with your wedding," General Altin says with barely concealed pride, "we secured the border villages. Kirikhan, Samandag, Yayladagi—all under Light Court protection now."
"How industrious of you," I murmur, circling the table like a shark. "And you think this gives you leverage?"
"The people welcomed us," an advisor adds eagerly. "They were terrified of the instability your union has brought?—"
"Show them," I interrupt, pulling out my own map from the shadows themselves. It materializes on top of theirs, larger and more detailed. Black markers cover twice the territory their red ones claim. "While you were playing with farming villages, I was taking things that actually matter."
General Altin's face drains of color as he processes what he's seeing.
"Your military outposts at Degirmenbasi and Kusçular," I point to each black marker with casual satisfaction. "The supply depot at Arsuz. Oh, and this morning?" I place a new black marker directly on what should be their most secure border fortress. "Fort Illumina fell. Funny how your soldiers surrender quickly when shadows fill their lungs."
"That's impossible," General Altin breathes. "Fort Illumina has stood for three centuries?—"
"Had stood," I correct. "Past tense. Your garrison commander is currently my guest. Would you like to see his ears? I've been collecting them from officers who thought threatening my family was wise."
The silence that follows is delicious. I can taste their fear, their realization that they've miscalculated catastrophically.
"You conquered three villages," I continue conversationally. "I conquered seventeen military installations. You took farmers who grow wheat. I took soldiers who guard your borders. So please, General, tell me again how I should surrender my wife because you're concerned about stability?"
One of the advisors—younger, stupider—steps forward with righteous fury blazing in his eyes. "You're a monster," he spits. "Lady Nesilhan deserves better than?—"
The wet crack of his neck breaking cuts off whatever he planned to say. My shadows retract from his corpse before it hits the ground, and I haven't even moved from my position at the table.
"Anyone else want to discuss what my wife deserves?" I ask mildly.
Two more advisors step forward, and I kill them just as quickly. One's head turns completely backward. The other's chest caves in as my shadows crush him from within. Their bodies join the first on the ground, blood pooling on the tent's floor.
"Kaan!" Zohan finally finds his voice, horrified. "You can't just?—"
"Can't I?" I grab him by the throat, lifting him off his feet with one hand. "You sat there while they planned to steal my pregnant wife. You chose them over your own sister. Give me one reason I shouldn't add your corpse to the pile."
"Please," he gasps, hands clawing at my grip. "I was trying to find a peaceful solution?—"
"Peace?" I throw him across the tent, watching with satisfaction as he crashes into the weapon rack. "There is no peace when it comes to my family. There is only death for those who threaten them."
The tent flaps rustle, and Lady Aylin enters with that insufferable serenity that marks neutral mediators. Her silver robes shimmer with their own light, and I feel the temperature in the tent shift as her magic tries to contain mine.
"Lord Kaan," she says, stepping over the corpses without flinching. "I believe we've moved past productive negotiation."
"We never started productive negotiation," I reply, shadows still writhing around me. "They came here with demands, not diplomacy."
"Perhaps," she agrees, which surprises me. "But continuing this path leads only to war that will devastate both realms."
"Then they should stop threatening what's mine."
"And if there were another way?" She moves closer, either brave or stupid. "A solution that doesn't require surrender or slaughter?"
"Speak quickly," I warn, "before I decide you're stalling for them."
She produces a crystal that glows with neutral magic. "A modified protection treaty. Your wife remains in your realm, but with agreed-upon magical monitoring to ensure the pregnancy doesn't destabilize?—"
"No."
