Page 106 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"And then she threw up in the garden, and I held her hair," Banu finishes with a grin. "Romance at its finest."
Emir is trying very hard not to laugh. "You threw up?"
"I was nervous about something," Nesilhan admits. "Can't remember what now."
"Probably the way Captain Perfect kept looking at you like you were the answer to his prayers," Banu suggests. "Very smoldering. Very, 'I would die for you, my lady.'"
"Captain fucking Perfect?" I repeat, my voice taking on a dangerous edge.
"That's what all the serving girls called him," Banu explains cheerfully. "Perfect manners, perfect face, perfect everything. Half the court was in love with him."
"Including you?" I ask Nesilhan with deceptive casualness.
"Oh, she was definitely smitten," Banu answers before Nesilhan can respond. "Kept asking about him for weeks. And those midnight walks in the garden? Very romantic."
"Banu!" Nesilhan protests, laughing despite herself.
"What happened to this captain?" I ask, and my shadows are definitely moving now, creeping across the floor like hunting predators.
"He got married," Nesilhan says quickly. "To a lovely girl from his hometown. They have three children now and raise horses."
"Fucking horses," I mutter. But some of the tension leaves my shoulders.
"Very domestic," Banu agrees. "Though I heard he named his eldest daughter Nesilah. Just a coincidence, I'm sure."
The wine glass shatters in my hand as my control finally snaps. My shadows surge forward like living things, drawn to violence, eager to hunt down a man who's been dead in my mind for the past five minutes.
"Banu," Emir warns, clearly recognizing the signs of an impending explosion.
"What? It's not like it means anything. So what if he carried a torch for our girl here for years? So what if he still gets that wistful look whenever someone mentions her name? So what if his wife looks suspiciously like a blonde version of?—"
"Banu!" Nesilhan and Emir say at the same time.
"I'm just saying," Banu continues blithely, apparently having lost all sense of self-preservation along with her sobriety, "it's very romantic. Star-crossed lovers, separated by fate, forever wondering what might have been?—"
I stand up so fast my chair topples backward. Darkness pours off me in waves, and several of the candles flicker ominously.
"Kaan," Nesilhan says, trying very hard not to smile as she reaches for my hand. "Sit down before you murder the furniture."
"Does he still— I mean, when he looks at his wife, does he— fuck, what I'm trying to ask is—" I drag my hands through my hair, completely losing my composure.
"Still what?"
"Love you."
The question hangs in the air like a challenge. Nesilhan studies my face for a long moment, then smiles with the kind of gentle affection that makes my heart do stupid things.
"Probably," she admits. "The same way, I probably still have some fondness for him. But, Kaan?" She rises and cups my face in her hands. "I chose you. I'm choosing you. I will always choose you, even when you're being a jealous, possessive nightmare."
"I'm not?—"
"You shattered a wine glass with your bare hands because another man named his daughter after me."
"That doesn't mean?—"
"Your shadows are currently strangling the curtains," Emir observes with perfect calm, though the corner of his mouth twitches.
I glance around and notice that yes, my shadows have indeed wrapped themselves around various pieces of furniture and are squeezing with obvious intent to murder.
