Page 119 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"Exactly what I told them," Emir confirms. "But they're claiming that the magical resonance cracked barriers that have held for centuries. Very convenient timing, considering these supposed escapes began two weeks ago."
Understanding hits like ice water. "They're using my cure as justification for invasion."
"It appears so. They're demanding immediate access to inspect our lands and 'contain the threat' before these creatures can spread to neutral territories."
"Fucking politicians," I growl. "This is territorial expansion disguised as public safety."
"There's more," Emir continues reluctantly. "Lord Zohan has been staying in the palace as your guest and attending our council meetings. Despite being under guard, he's been finding ways to communicate with Light Court representatives—sending coded messages through his personal servants, engaging in strategic conversations during his supervised visits to the city. Our sources confirm he's been providing detailed reports about your condition, the ritual's specifics, and everything he's observed about our current political situation. It appears the Light Court promised him Nesilhan would be 'safer' under their protection once the baby is born."
The betrayal hits hard. Through our bond, I feel Nesilhan's matching devastation as the full scope of her brother's deception becomes clear.
"He's been spying on us," she whispers. "This whole time, he's been reporting back to the Light Court."
"Everything," Emir confirms. "Your pregnancy, the ritual details, the political situation here. He's painted a picture of a realm in chaos and a leader whose recent magical transformation poses a threat to regional stability."
My shadows surge outward with volcanic fury, turning the chamber dark. Furniture groans under the pressure of my rage, and the crystal windows begin to sing with stress fractures.
Nesilhan's hand touches my arm, but instead of her usual calming presence, I feel raw devastation flowing through our bond—grief and betrayal so sharp it cuts deeper than any blade. She's trembling, not with desire now but with the effort of holding herself together.
"My own brother," she whispers, her voice breaking on the words. "He's been watching me, reporting on our child, planning to take me away from you. How could I have been so blind?"
Her pain crashes into me through our connection, and it takes every ounce of control I possess not to let my shadows explode outward and tear apart everything in reach. Through our bond, I feel our child stirring restlessly, responding to both our emotional turmoil.
"That manipulative, golden-haired piece of shit," I snarl.
"Language," Nesilhan warns, though her own anger burns through our connection like molten gold. "There's a baby present."
"The baby needs to learn what treacherous family members are called," I growl. "It's basic vocabulary."
"We need to focus on the immediate problem," Emir interrupts. "The Light Court is using Zohan's reports to justify military action. They're claiming humanitarian intervention to protect both realms from whatever was supposedly released during your cure."
I pace to the window, staring out at the Shadow Court's eternal twilight while my mind races through possibleresponses. The political implications are staggering—if the Light Court can frame my healing as a regional threat, they have justification for military intervention that could destabilize everything we've built.
"They want controlled conflict," I realize aloud. "Not open war, but enough border tension to justify occupation. Keep us constantly responding to incursions instead of governing effectively."
"And if you respond too aggressively to their 'peacekeeping missions,'" Emir adds, "you prove their point about instability."
"Exactly. Fucking brilliant strategy." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Provoke us into overreacting, then point to our response as evidence that we're dangerous."
The chamber door opens again, and Banu flutters in with her usual flair for dramatic timing.
"Sorry I'm late," she announces cheerfully. "I was just in the town marketplace eavesdropping on some very interesting conversations between your kitchen staff and the visiting Light Court 'diplomats' who've been lurking around buying supplies. Did someone mention treacherous golden-haired family members? Because I have so much gossip."
Through our bond, I feel Nesilhan's emotional turmoil—betrayal over Zohan's deception mixed with fear for our child's future and fury at being manipulated by people she trusted. But underneath it all is something else: the same steel core that made her an effective assassin, the calm determination that helped her survive months of amnesia.
"What do you need from me?" she asks quietly.
The simple question, offered without hesitation despite everything she's endured, makes love crash through me with soul-crushing force. This woman, carrying our child, still recovering from trauma and betrayal, asking how she can help defend our realm.
"Nothing dangerous," I say firmly. "You're staying here, under guard, while I handle this."
"Absolutely not," she replies with sweet venom. "These people used my brother to manipulate us, used my pregnancy as intelligence to justify military action. I'm not hiding while you clean up the messes they created."
"You're pregnant," I point out, my voice harder than I intend.
"I'm pregnant, not helpless. And I'm the only person who might be able to reach Zohan, make him see what he's really doing."
Every protective instinct I possess rebels against the idea of exposing her to more danger. "Nesilhan, no. I won't risk?—"
