Page 123 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"Threatening?" Mikail laughs, a sound like crystal being fed through a meat grinder. "My dear boy, I'm warning. There's a difference, though I suppose the distinction matters little when the outcome involves bloodshed."
"Specifics would be more useful than cryptic philosophy," Elçin interjects with bluntness. "If there are threats moving against us, we need actionable intelligence, not riddles wrapped in supernatural dramatics."
Mikail's attention shifts to her with feral amusement. "How delightfully direct. Very well—whispers in the shadow markets,coded messages between courts, old debts being called in by powers that predate your current political arrangements." His smile turns razor-sharp. "Specific enough for you, warrior?"
"What have you heard?" I ask, my hand moving instinctively to my belly.
"Conversations in dark places about ancient prophecies and bloodline purification," he continues, his gaze never leaving Elçin's stern expression. "Some believe your child represents hope. Others see it as an affront to the natural order. Both perspectives lead to the same inevitable conclusion."
"Which is?"
"Violence," he says with casual satisfaction. "Glorious, inevitable violence. The question isn't whether someone will try to claim or destroy what you've created, but who will act first—and how creative they'll be about it."
Elçin's expression hardens further. "Time frame? Numbers? Specific factions?" Her warrior's training demands concrete information. "Are we talking about coordinated assault or individual attempts?"
But Mikail merely smiles at her barrage of questions, inclining his head with mock courtesy. "Such lovely deadly efficiency. Unfortunately, the shadows rarely operate on schedules that accommodate planning committees."
Before either of us can press for more details, he's already gliding away, melting back into the crowd with vampiric grace. Several guests notice his movement and begin gravitating toward different areas of the hall—a subtle reshuffling that speaks of political alliances and social calculations.
"Cryptic warnings from ancient vampires," Banu observes. "Because this evening wasn't complicated enough already."
"He's right about one thing," Kaan says grimly. "The pregnancy has made us targets. Every faction with an opinion about the prophecy will want some level of control or influence."
"Which means tonight is likely a reconnaissance mission for multiple parties," Elçin adds with grim understanding. "They're here to assess our defenses, our alliances, our vulnerabilities." She scans the crowd with renewed intensity. "We should assume every conversation, every interaction, is being evaluated for strategic intelligence."
I nod at her assessment, feeling the weight of so many watching eyes. "Then we make it clear that neither control nor influence is available," I reply with steel in my voice. "Our child belongs to no one but us."
Through our bond, I feel his fierce approval of my words, his shadows settling slightly as determination replaces anxiety. Whatever threats we face, we'll face them together.
"Well," Banu announces with forced brightness, "enough doom and gloom. This is supposed to be a celebration, and I refuse to let vampiric prophecy nonsense ruin my party planning. Shall we mingle? There are several shadow lord cousins who've been dying to congratulate you both, and the Light Court delegation looks properly intimidated by our hospitality."
We move through the crowd with skill, accepting congratulations and deflecting political probes with equal measure. The shadow lords are genuinely pleased—their realm is stable, their lord cured of corruption, and the promise of an heir speaks to continuity and strength. Several cousins mention increased trade negotiations and improved relations with neutral territories, suggesting that our recent trials have actually enhanced our political position.
"Interesting how surviving hell makes you more credible," I murmur to Kaan as we navigate toward the Light Court delegation.
"Nothing says 'don't fuck with us' like successfully negotiating with demons and living to tell about it," he replies with dark satisfaction.
But as we approach the eastern balcony where Zohan waits, my diplomatic composure begins to crack. My brother stands apart from the Light Court group, his golden perfection somehow dimmed as he stares out at the gardens with an expression I can't read.
The weight of everything—Mikail's ominous warnings, the threats closing in around our unborn child, the political maneuvering disguised as celebration—suddenly feels overwhelming. And now I must face the brother who betrayed everything I thought we stood for, who has been feeding our enemies information about our most vulnerable moments.
Whatever revelations await me in that conversation, I sense they will change everything. The shadows seem to whisper of secrets yet to be unveiled, of family bonds tested beyond their breaking point, and of truths that will redefine everything I thought I knew about my own life.
The celebration continues around us, glittering and beautiful, but I can feel the darkness gathering at its edges—political, personal, and prophetic forces converging on a single point that threatens to shatter the fragile peace we've fought so hard to build.
41
Family Lies
Nesilhan
Elçin appears at my shoulder with silent steps, her voice pitched low enough that only I can hear. "Do you want me present for this conversation?"
I shake my head slightly. "No, but thank you."
"I'll be close enough that if you change your mind, just nod at me," she says quietly before melting back toward the entrance.
"Give me a moment," I tell Kaan quietly. "This conversation needs to happen."
