Page 26 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"Fine," I say, wiping my eyes with my free hand. "Just…remembering things."
He nods, but there's something tense about the way he holds himself. "Actually, I was hoping to speak with you. About the other night."
Banu's hand tightens almost imperceptibly on mine. "Oh, this should be good," she mutters under her breath.
Sinan either doesn't hear her or chooses to ignore the comment. "Elif, I know you're confused about what happened with…him, but I need you to understand how dangerous he is."
"His name is Kaan," I say quietly.
"I know what his name is." Sinan's jaw tightens. "I also know what he's capable of. The things he's done, the people he's hurt. You may feel some connection to him because of your lost memories, but that doesn't change the facts."
I feel Banu go very still beside me, like a cat about to pounce.
"And what facts are those?" I ask.
"He's killed innocents. Burned entire villages. His power is dark, corrupted—" Sinan starts, but Banu cuts him off with a laugh.
"Oh, you sweet, naive little lamb," she says, releasing my hand and rising to her feet. Despite her tiny stature, there's something almost menacing about the way she moves. "You have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, do you?"
Sinan's eyes narrow. "I know enough."
"Do you?" She tilts her head, silver hair catching the light. "Do you know about the prophecy? About the binding? About what happens when you try to separate two souls that have been woven together by forces older than your precious Light Court?"
"Banu," I say sharply, alarmed by the sudden shift in her demeanor.
But she's not listening. Her pale lavender eyes are locked on Sinan with assessing focus. "You think you can just waltz in here, play the concerned protector, and somehow compete with a connection that spans lifetimes? You think your pretty face and gentle words are going to override something written in the very fabric of fate itself?"
Sinan steps forward, his own power beginning to shimmer around him like heat waves. "I think I can offer her a choice that doesn't involve darkness and destruction."
"Choice?" Banu's laugh turns sharp enough to cut. "Oh, you really don't understand, do you? This isn't about choice. This isn't about what's safe or easy or comfortable. This is about two people who are literally incomplete without each other, and you—" She gestures dismissively. "You're just background noise."
"Banu, stop," I snap, getting to my feet.
But Sinan's temper is rising, too, power crackling around him like barely contained lightning. "And what makes you think you know better? You're just?—"
"Just what?" Her voice drops to something dangerous and musical. "Just a fae who's older than your grandfather's grandfather? Just someone who's seen the rise and fall of kingdoms? Just the one who's been protecting her since she was barely more than a child?"
The air in the room begins to thicken with competing energies—Sinan's bright, controlled power and Banu's wilder, more chaotic magic.
"Both of you, stop this right now," I command, but neither is listening anymore.
"You don't stand a chance," Banu continues, her small form beginning to glow with pale light. "You have no idea what you're up against. The depth of what connects them, the power that flows between them when they're together—you're trying to fight the tide with a teacup."
"Maybe," Sinan says, his voice deadly quiet. "But at least I'm trying to save her instead of leading her toward something that will destroy her."
"ENOUGH!"
The shout comes from neither of them. We all turn toward the doorway, where a figure stands silhouetted against the bright morning light.
She's tall—nearly as tall as Sinan—with long blonde hair that catches the sunlight like spun gold. Her eyes are pale gray, thecolor of storm clouds, and she's stunning in a way that makes the very air seem to hold its breath. She's dressed in expensive leather armor, the kind worn by elite warriors, with weapons that speak of both wealth and deadly skill.
But it's not her appearance that makes us all freeze. It's the way she moves, the casual confidence that speaks of someone accustomed to command, to having rooms full of people fall silent when she enters.
"Are you quite finished with this pathetic display?" she asks, her voice carrying a slight accent I can't place. "Because the entire village is listening, and frankly, it's embarrassing."
I look past her and realize she's right. Half the village seems to have gathered close by, drawn by the magical energies crackling through the air. They're all staring—at the argument, at the stranger, at me.
The woman steps fully into the cottage, and I can see her more clearly now. She's beautiful, yes, but there's something almost otherworldly about her features. Her blonde hair has an unusual shimmer to it, and those gray eyes seem to hold depths that speak of magic and mystery.
