Page 48 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"What does that fucking mean, Mikail?" I snarl. "Quit talking in fucking riddles."
"Your father is particularly fascinated by the impossible fruit growing in your garden. He wants you to pay him a visit," Mikail says, his form beginning to waver as he prepares to fade back into shadow. "Light and Shadow were never meant to create life together, yet here you've managed to plant a seed that defies the very laws of creation. Such a…unique child will require careful tending."
The way he says 'unique child' makes ice flood my veins. He knows. Somehow, he knows about the prophecy.
"And if I refuse?"
"Then he'll simply have to visit you instead. And I fear he might bring some of his newer compositions. The kind who don't appreciate Light Court attachments or the complications they create." His form begins to waver as he prepares to fade back into shadow. "You have two weeks to present yourself, or he comes here."
The threat is clear, and my blood turns to ice. Erlik, here. In this peaceful village where Nesilhan sleeps, unaware that her husband's past is about to come calling with all the subtlety of an avalanche.
"Two weeks," I say finally, each word costing me something vital.
"Two weeks," Mikail agrees, his form becoming more translucent. "Don't keep him waiting. Erlik has never been patient with unfinished symphonies."
He dissolves into shadow, leaving me alone in the frost-covered grove with the weight of eight centuries of history crushing down on my shoulders.
Erlik somehow found out about Nesilhan. The thought of my father knowing about her, about our child, makes something howl in protest deep in my chest. She doesn't know the history of violence that follows in my wake. Doesn't remember that being loved by me comes with a price paid in blood and darkness.
But Erlik knows. Erlik has always known exactly what kind of monster he created, and he's never approved of my attempts to be anything else.
I should leave. Should pack up my forces and return to the Shadow Court before this village becomes collateral damage in a war that started before Nesilhan was even born.
But the thought of leaving her, of abandoning the woman who carries my child while she's still vulnerable and memory-less, makes something howl in protest deep in my chest.
No. I won't run. Not this time. Not when I finally have something worth fighting for.
If Erlik wants a family reunion, he can have one. But it will be on my terms, in my time, when I'm ready to face the demon who destroyed my capacity for love once before.
I just have to make sure Nesilhan is safe first. Protected. Hidden away where even my father's considerable reach can't touch her.
Two weeks. Two weeks to prepare for a confrontation eight centuries in the making.
Two weeks to remember what it means to be the monster Erlik created, so I can protect the woman who's shown me what it means to be something more.
The irony isn't lost on me. To save the light, I'll have to embrace the darkness more completely than I have in centuries.
I just hope there's enough of me left afterward to remember why it mattered.
16
The Weight of Truth
Nesilhan
The morning lightfilters through the cottage windows as I braid my hair with trembling fingers, preparing to face the brother I can't remember. Yesterday's encounter in the clearing had been too charged, too complicated with Kaan's presence and the territorial tension crackling between the two men. Today, I need answers without shadows and possessive fury clouding every word.
"You're nervous," Banu observes from her perch by the window, where she's been pretending to organize dried herbs while actually keeping watch. Her green eyes hold that familiar concern that speaks of deeper friendship than our brief acquaintance should allow.
"Terrified," I admit, setting down my brush with hands that won't quite steady. "What if he tells me things I don't want to know? What if the woman I was before is someone I can't live with being?"
"Then you'll decide who you want to be now," Mira says firmly from the doorway, her weathered features soft withmaternal concern. "The past shapes us, child, but it doesn't define us. You get to choose who Nesilhan becomes."
Before I can respond, Elçin appears in the doorway behind Mira, already dressed in her leather armor despite the early hour. Her storm-gray eyes take in my appearance with uncomfortable accuracy—the hastily braided hair, the nervous energy radiating from every line of my body.
"Going somewhere?" she asks with the casual tone of someone who already knows the answer.
"To meet my brother," I say, trying for confidence I don't feel. "Alone. I need to understand who I was without?—"
