Page 94 of Crown of Storm and Silence
She silences me with another kiss, deeper this time, her tongue sliding against mine until I'm drowning in the taste of her. When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, she keeps her forehead pressed against mine.
"I know what you need," she whispers, her hands sliding down to rest over my heart where the silver veins pulse brightest. "I can sense what you're going through."
Golden light flickers where her palms touch my chest, and for a moment, the constant ache of the poison eases. "Please, don't cry for me," I growl, my thumbs catching the tears on her cheeks.
"I can't help myself, Kaan. I hate that I ran when you needed me most, and I can't even remember why I thought it was the right choice."
"You thought it because you were wise," I say, pulling her closer. "Because you saw the monster I was becoming before I did."
"You're not a monster." Her hands frame my face, forcing me to meet her eyes. "You're the man who saved me from those creatures, who's fighting his own nature to protect everyone he loves. You're the father of my child, and?—"
She gasps, her hand flying to her belly as movement ripples beneath her palm. "Oh. The baby."
My own hand covers hers instinctively, and the moment we touch, the connection blazes to life.
"Evladim," I whisper, my voice rough with emotion. "Your father is here."
Another kick, stronger this time, and through the golden thread that connects us, I feel something that makes my stone-cold heart remember warmth. Love. Pure, unconditional love from a soul that doesn't yet know to fear the darkness flowing through its veins.
"It knows you," Nesilhan breathes, wonder in her voice. "It's been waiting for you."
I drop to my knees, pressing my forehead against her belly while my hands map the gentle swell. "I'm sorry," I whisper to the life growing within her. "Sorry, your father is broken. Sorry, I can't be better for you."
"You are enough," she says, her fingers combing through my hair. "You're going to survive this. You're going to come back and be the father this child deserves."
The portal spitsus out onto blood-red marble that gleams like fresh carnage under the realm's sickly twilight. I've brought enough firepower to start a war—Emir, twenty guards, and weapons that could crack reality if things go to hell. Which, considering we're literally in hell, seems likely.
Banu takes one look at the towering spires of crystallized screams and makes a sound like a cat being murderedby aesthetics. "Sweet suffering gods," she announces, "it's like someone gave architectural plans to a psychopath with unlimited funding and daddy issues. Who builds a palace out of what appears to be fossilized nightmares?"
"It seems that Lord Erlik does, to keep family legacy intact," Emir adds dryly, his gaze sweeping over a particularly impressive gargoyle that appears to be weeping actual blood. "I'm certain the neighboring realms are simply envious of the... ambiance."
"Fucking aesthetics," I mutter, taking in the twisted spires and crystallized screams that pass for architecture here. "Father always did have a flair for the dramatically unhinged."
"Dramatically unhinged is putting it mildly," Banu snorts. "This looks like what happens when nightmares get unlimited construction budgets."
A soft laugh draws my attention to the figure who has remained conspicuously quiet since our arrival. Elcin steps forward from where she'd been observing the palace with the kind of clinical interest that suggests she's cataloguing weaknesses rather than admiring the architecture.
"I've seen worse," she says with the casual tone of with the casual indifference of a battle-worn soldier. "Though admittedly, most of those were actively trying to kill me at the time."
Nesilhan glances at her with surprise. "Worse than crystallized screams as building material?"
"The Bone Citadel in the Third Circle uses actual sentient skeletons as load-bearing supports," Elcin replies matter-of-factly. "They whisper complaints about the weight distribution. Very distracting during negotiations."
Banu stares at her with something between admiration and horror. "You've been to the Third Circle? Voluntarily?"
"Business," Elcin says with a slight shrug. "Some contracts require... specialized venues."
I watch Emir's expression shift as he processes this information, clearly reassessing whatever assumptions he'd made about our unexpected companion. When Elcin had insisted on joining us, I'd been reluctant to include another variable in an already volatile situation. But seeing her now—calm, observant, completely unfazed by the nightmare architecture surrounding us—I find myself grateful for her presence.
Zohan stands slightly apart from our group with an expression of poorly concealed revulsion. "This is where you want to hold the ceremony?"
"It's where the ceremony needs to be held," I correct, watching as Nesilhan takes in the towering spires and gargoyles with wide eyes. "Shadow magic requires specific conditions for the purification ritual."
"Right," he says with skepticism that makes my shadows twitch. "Purification."
Emir moves closer to me, his voice pitched low enough that Zohan can't overhear. "Why is he here? I thought we agreed he was too much of a risk to bring along."
I glance toward Nesilhan's brother, who's now examining a particularly grotesque gargoyle with obvious disgust. "Better to keep an eye on him here than leave him behind where he could cause problems we can't control," I murmur back. "At least this way, any betrayal happens where we can see it coming."
