Page 22 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"Fetch Banu," I command, shadows unfurling from beneath my cloak. "Now. And Emir?" He pauses. "Make it abundantly clear that this is not a social call."
The village lies a good ten minutes away, yet Banu arrives sooner than expected, slipping through the tent flap with none of her usual grand entrance. Her silver-blonde hair cycles through anxious colors—blue to gray to a particularly ominous shade of purple. Her wings droop with exhaustion, and for once, she's mercifully quiet.
"Well," she says, attempting her usual bravado but failing spectacularly, "this is awkward. Though I must say, your camp has terrible feng shui. All those pointed weapons facing inward? Very negative energy flow."
"Sit," I command, my voice deadly quiet.
She perches nervously on the edge of a camp stool, her tiny form dwarfed by the military surroundings. "Before you startwith the dramatic threatening," she begins, "I want you to know that I didn't expect?—"
"You will tell me everything," I interrupt, my voice carrying the promise of violence. "Everything that happened that night. Every word you spoke to my wife. Every detail you've conveniently omitted. And if I discover you've lied to me..." Shadows rippling outward in dark waves. "Well, let's just say your wings are quite delicate, aren't they?"
Banu's wings flutter frantically. "I…after you killed Aslan, when we were leaving his cottage, I saw a potion on the floor. It had been knocked over during the fight. I…I picked it up and hid it."
"What kind of potion?" Emir asks quietly.
"The Blood Severance Elixir," she admits, wringing her tiny hands. "I was watching from the window when Aslan tried to force it on Nesilhan. I knew what it was supposed to do—break the blood bond between you two. I thought…I thought maybe she should have options."
My shadows begin to darken around us. "Options?"
"When I told her about Isil's journal that night, she was so desperate, so terrified. I thought…I thought she should have the potion back. So I gave it to her." She swallows hard.
The temperature in the pavilion drops several degrees. "You returned a magical potion to my wife that was specifically designed to destroy our bond?"
"She was terrified!" Banu protests. "After I told her about the journal and gave her the vial, she just…she took it. Said she would keep it. I thought maybe having it would make her feel like she had some control."
"How considerate," I snarl, shadows beginning to lash out. "You enabled her destruction out of kindness."
"I knew it would break your blood bond, but I didn't realize it would cause complete amnesia," she says desperately. "Ithought…I thought it would just sever the magical connection, not destroy her memories entirely. I should have asked more questions about what the potion would do, but I was so focused on giving her a choice that I didn't consider the consequences."
"The Blood Severance Elixir," Emir interjects quietly, "what exactly does it do beyond breaking bonds?"
"I don't know much about memory magic—it's not my area of expertise," Banu admits reluctantly. "But I've heard that sometimes traumatic magical severances can lock memories away rather than destroy them completely. Whether they can be recovered..." She shakes her head helplessly. "I honestly don't know."
"What I do know," she continues carefully, "is that we have to take this slowly. She's fragile now, more than you might realize. Pushing too hard, too fast, could shatter what's left of her mind completely. You need to be gentle with her, Kaan. Patient."
Something inside me snaps.
"Gentle?" I snarl, shadows exploding outward with violent force. "Patient? My wife destroyed her own mind to escape me, and you want me to be fucking gentle?"
I surge to my feet, the camp chair flying backward as darkness engulfs the pavilion. "Tell me she'll remember! Tell me this isn't permanent! Tell me something useful instead of platitudes about patience!"
Banu yelps as tendrils of shadow wrap around her tiny form, lifting her from the stool. "Hey! Personal space, you overgrown drama queen!" she snaps, though her voice wavers slightly. "And for the record, I don't know! Nobody knows! Memory magic isn't an exact science!"
"My lord." Emir's voice cuts through my rage as he steps between us, one hand moving carefully to his sword hilt. "Perhaps we should release her and discuss this calmly."
"Get out of my way, Emir," I growl, tightening the shadows around the fairy. "She destroyed my wife's mind and now she's telling me to be patient while?—"
For a heartbeat, something shifts in Emir's eyes—something I've never seen in eight centuries of service. His jaw sets with quiet resolve as steel whispers from its sheath. The blade emerges slowly, deliberately, its steel catching the lamplight. Eight centuries of loyalty gives weight to his defiance as he levels the ceremonial blade between us, its significance unmistakable.
The world stops.
In eight hundred years, through countless battles, betrayals, and my darkest moments, Emir has never—not once—drawn steel against me. My shadows freeze mid-strike, shock overwhelming my rage.
"Well, well," I laugh, the sound brittle as breaking glass. "My stoic general, drawing steel to protect his precious little pixie. Tell me, Emir, does she flutter those pretty wings when you kiss her? Or do you have to be careful not to snap her in half during your tender moments?"
"Take a walk," he says quietly, his sword never wavering. "Cool off. Think. Then come back when you can discuss this rationally."
"Rationally?" I repeat, incredulous. "My wife?—"
