Page 102 of Crown of Storm and Silence
Kaan's laugh is dark and satisfied. "Let him be furious. The bond is permanent now, he can't corrupt what's already claimed by light."
I want to share his confidence, but something cold settles in my stomach. We've won this battle, restored our connection, and contained the poison. But Erlik didn't become the lord of demons by accepting defeat gracefully.
This was never about the blood bond at all. It was just the first move in a much larger game.
And now that we've given him exactly what he wanted—a permanent connection between us—I have the horrible feeling the real trap is about to spring.
34
A Toast to Damnation
Kaan
The wedding feasterupts around us with all the restrained elegance of a natural disaster having a midlife crisis. Demons in formal wear clink glasses filled with what I'm fairly certain is liquefied screaming, while shadow lords discuss the finer points of creative torture techniques over appetizers that definitely used to have names and possibly families.
"Magnificent turnout," Erlik announces, surveying the assembled guests with paternal pride. "I do so love bringing the family together for special occasions."
By "family," he means every nightmare that crawled out of the deeper realms to witness our marital bliss. The guest list reads like a supernatural Most Wanted poster—succubi in designer gowns that cost more than most kingdoms' annual budgets, incubi whose smiles could charm angels into committing genocide, and various demonic nobility who consider "recreational disembowelment" a legitimate hobby.
"Charming crowd," Banu observes, eyeing a particularly well-dressed demon lord whose horns have been polished to mirror brightness. "I see the dress code is 'formal damnation with a side of existential dread.' Should I compliment Lord Sparkle-Horns on his grooming routine, or would that be considered flirting with the damned?"
"Just smile and nod," Emir murmurs, positioning himself protectively near Banu while surveying the crowd. "And try not to insult anyone who could literally eat you for dessert."
"Where's the fun in that?" she retorts, but I notice she moves slightly closer to my general's imposing frame.
Nesilhan stands beside me, her hand resting on my arm with the kind of possessive grace that makes several nearby succubi reassess their evening plans. The restored blood bond hums between us like a plucked string, carrying her emotions—fascination mixed with horror, curiosity tempered by the growing certainty that we're surrounded by creatures who consider morality a quaint human invention. Last night's joining restored our connection, but it was careful, tender—nothing like the raw, consuming hunger that's been building in my veins since we arrived in this realm of beautiful corruption. The very air here whispers dark encouragements, feeds primal urges I've spent centuries learning to contain. Every time she moves closer, every brush of her skin against mine, makes me want to drag her away from prying eyes and show her exactly how depraved her monster husband can be when all pretense falls away.
"My dear children," Erlik says, appearing beside us with the kind of dramatic timing that suggests he's been practicing in mirrors. "I simply must give you the grand tour. After all, it's not every day we celebrate a wedding in Kara Cehennem. The guests are positively dying to show off their favorite haunts."
"How delightfully fucked up," I reply with the kind of smile that makes reality consider relocating to a different realm."Though I should mention that my wife is pregnant, so perhaps we could skip any attractions that involve excessive screaming, creative dismemberment, or recreational soul extraction."
"Oh, my boy," Erlik chuckles with genuine amusement, "you make it sound so... clinical. This is refined entertainment we're discussing. The screaming is merely the soundtrack to inspired craftsmanship."
"Refined entertainment," Nesilhan repeats faintly, her grip on my arm tightening as a nearby demon demonstrates his "talents" by making a wine glass weep actual tears.
Erlik gestures grandly toward the assembled crowd. "Allow me to introduce some of our more distinguished guests. Lady Lilith there—" he points to a stunning demoness whose beauty could start wars and probably has, "—specializes in corrupting the pure of heart. Very effective work rate. And Count Andromalius—" a tall demon with eyes like burning coals nods politely, "—handles our more... intimate interrogation techniques."
"Intimate interrogation," Banu snorts. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
"The little fairy has such lovely manners," Lady Lilith purrs. "I do hope we'll have time to chat later. I'm interested in meeting Nesilhan's... friends."
The way she says ‘'friends'’ makes it sound like she's discussing menu options.
I catch Banu's eye across the crowd of demons, and she raises one eyebrow with that particular smirk that means our earlier conversation is about to pay off. We'd planned this when Nesilhan was resting—Banu cornering me with her usual blend of manipulation and sexual innuendo.
"You should do theKaranlik Ayinifor her," she'd said, perched on a windowsill like a particularly vulgar gargoyle. "Show her what all that dark, brooding intensity looks likewhen you're not just standing around looking constipated with authority."
"I don't look?—"
"Oh, please. You brood like it's an art form. Very sexy, don't get me wrong, but imagine what she'll think when she sees you actually move those deliciously muscled thighs for something other than intimidation." She'd grinned wickedly. "Though I suppose intimidation and seduction aren't mutually exclusive in your case."
Now, watching the demons circle us with their dark fascination, I give her the slightest nod.
Banu's grin turns absolutely feral. "Oh, this is delightful," she announces loudly, fluttering her wings with theatrical excitement. "Ladies and gentlemen—well, demons and various hellish nobility—we're about to witness something truly spectacular."
"What are you plotting now?" Nesilhan asks, though I can feel her amusement through our bond.
"Not plotting, darling. Enabling." Banu settles onto a nearby pillar with obvious relish. "Your husband is about to perform theKaranlik Ayini—the Shadow Court's traditional groom dance. Very ancient. Very... athletic."
