Page 24 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"If the title fits." He retrieves his axe, though his hands shake. "I don't care what you are or what you think gives you the right to her. She's not property."
"Oh, but she is," I correct, delighted by his defiance. "Blood-bonded, magically bound, legally wed. Every law of god and man says she belongs to me." I tilt my head. "Of course, she did try to dissolve that bond by destroying her own mind, so points for creativity."
His face goes pale. "You're the reason she ran. You're what she was so afraid of."
"Indeed," I agree with dark amusement. "Though I'm still working out the details of why. Something about thinking I'd murder her and our unborn child, apparently. Terribly inconvenient, that."
Sinan sways on his feet, the truth finally sinking in. "That's…you’re lying."
"Which part?" I ask with dark amusement. "That she's terrified of me? That she destroyed her own mind to escape whatever she believed I'd do? Or that your noble rescue is nothing more than wishful thinking?" I watch his face crumble. "So you see, your little rescue fantasy was doomed from the start."
The fight goes out of him. He slumps against a woodpile, staring at me with hollow eyes.
"So you see," I continue pleasantly, "you can't save her from me, Sinan. I am her nightmare made flesh, the monster under her bed, the darkness she can't escape. And sooner or later, she'll remember that."
"Then why aren't you taking her?" he asks quietly. "If she's really yours, why are you here talking to me instead of dragging her back to the Shadow Realm?"
The question irritates me more than I care to admit. "Because I'm not some common brigand who steals women in the night," I snap. "She made her choice to run. Now she can make the choice to return."
"And if she doesn't? If she never remembers, or remembers and still chooses to stay here?"
I consider this, power writhing restlessly around my feet. "Then I suppose we'll discover just how far my patience extends. But make no mistake—she is mine. The child she carries is mine. And if you think to take advantage of her broken state..." My smile turns razor-sharp. "Well, immortality gives one such creative perspectives on revenge."
I turn to leave, then pause. "Oh, and Sinan? Don't make me return to have this conversation again. I won't be nearly so…diplomatic next time."
As I fade into the darkness, I begin humming a cheerful little tune—a lullaby mothers sing to their children about the monsters that steal naughty boys in the night.
Behind me, Sinan remains frozen by the woodpile, staring at the spot where I vanished, the axe hanging forgotten in his grip.
9
New Arrival
Nesilhan
The morning lightfilters through the cottage windows as I sort through dried herbs, my hands moving with ease despite the chaos still swirling through my mind. Three days have passed since Kaan appeared, and I haven't slept properly since. Every time I close my eyes, I see those dark flames in his gaze, hear the raw pain in his voice when he speaks my name.
Nesilhan.
Even thinking it sends shivers through me, awakening something deep and restless that I can't name or understand. The name feels heavy on my tongue when I whisper it in the darkness of my room, like a key that might unlock doors I'm not sure I want opened.
"You're distracted again," Banu observes from her perch near the window, where she's been pretending to grind chamomile for the past hour. Her delicate features carry an expression of concern that seems disproportionate for someone I've known less than a week.
There's something about her that pulls at me constantly—a familiarity that goes bone-deep despite our brief acquaintance. When she looks at me, I see affection and protectiveness that speaks of years of friendship, not days. It should unsettle me, but instead, it feels like coming home to something I didn't know I'd lost.
"Banu," I say suddenly, setting down my mortar and pestle. "Tell me about yourself. Really tell me, not just the bits and pieces you've been dropping like breadcrumbs."
She goes very still, her pale lavender eyes taking on that careful wariness I've learned to recognize. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything. Where you come from, how you learned magic, why you're here helping a woman who can't even remember her own name." I turn to face her fully. "And don't give me some vague answer about wandering fae and coincidence. I may not remember my past, but I'm not stupid."
A slow smile spreads across her face—not the bright, deflecting one she usually wears, but something smaller and more genuine. "You always were too clever for your own good."
The words slip out before she can catch them, and we both freeze.
"Always?" I whisper.
She closes her eyes briefly, silver-blonde hair shifting color slightly toward a more muted gray. When she opens them again, there's resignation there alongside the affection.
