Page 36 of Crown of Storm and Silence
Kaan's attention shifts to her for the first time, those dark eyes taking in her expensive armor, the casual confidence, the way she stands like she expects to be obeyed. "And you are?"
"Elçin of the Northern Reaches," she says with a slight inclination of her head that manages to convey both respect and wariness—like acknowledging a dangerous predator you're not entirely sure won't attack. "Nesilhan's cousin." There's genuine concern beneath the simple introduction, but also a careful neutrality that speaks of political experience.
The stranger—Emir, I remember from earlier—clears his throat diplomatically. "Perhaps this conversation would be better had in private."
"Nonsense," Kaan replies, though his gaze has shifted between Elçin and me with new calculation. "My wife has just reminded me quite forcefully that I've been taking liberties I haven't earned. It's only fair that she meet the man who's been trying to talk me out of those very liberties for weeks." He pauses, then adds, "And apparently her family as well."
"Stay out of my dreams," I warn, my voice low and dangerous, trying to ignore how something treacherous sings at his casual possessiveness.
"Can't promise that," he replies, leaning back with infuriating casualness. "Dreams have their own will, especially when they're all that's left of something precious."
"If you ever, ever invade my dreams again—" I begin.
"You'll break my nose again?" he suggests helpfully. "Though I have to say, I preferred the healing that followed. Very thorough." His eyes drop meaningfully to where my hands had touched his face. "Almost tender."
The fact that he's clearly enjoying this entire exchange only makes me angrier. "I'll find a way to make you regret it," I promise.
His smile softens, becoming something almost tender. "Hatun, I've regretted every choice I've made since the day you left. One more won't make much difference."
The simple honesty in his voice catches me off guard, and for a moment, I don't know how to respond. This man, who terrifies entire villages, who commands shadows and darkness, looks at me like I hold his entire world in my hands.
And perhaps, in ways I can't remember, I do.
"Just…stay out of my dreams," I repeat, but the fight has gone out of my voice.
"I'll try," he says quietly. "But I can't promise they won't reach for you anyway."
I turn to leave before I can say something I'll regret, Elçin falling smoothly into step beside me, but his voice stops me.
"Nesilhan."
I don't turn around, but I don't walk away either. My name on his lips in waking life carries the same devastating intimacy it held in dreams, and I hate how my body responds—the involuntary shiver, the way my pulse quickens.
"Thank you," he says softly. "For healing me. You didn't have to."
I know,I want to say.I know I didn't have to, just like you didn't have to make it feel like coming home when you touched me in dreams. Just like you didn't have to make me remember, for one impossible moment, what it felt like to be complete.
My throat tightens with emotion I can't name. "I know," I whisper instead, and continue walking before I can do something truly stupid.
As we make our way back down the treacherous path, Elçin is unusually quiet. It's not until we're halfway to the village that she finally speaks.
"That was quite a punch," she says conversationally.
I stumble slightly on a root. "I don't know where that came from."
"Muscle memory," she replies. "You were trained to fight once. Very well trained, from what I just witnessed."
"By whom? When?" The questions tumble out before I can stop them.
Elçin's smile carries both warmth and sadness. "You always were quick to learn. Even when you couldn't remember why you knew how to do something." She pauses, seeming to weigh her words carefully. "Some skills run deeper than memory, cousin. They become part of who you are."
The bite mark throbs with each step I take away from him, a brand that will fade from my skin long before it fades from my memory. And despite everything—the anger, the violation, the impossibility of it all—I know with bone-deep certainty that when I sleep tonight, some treacherous part of me will be hoping he finds me in dreams again.
"Come," Elçin says, her voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. "We have much to discuss, and very little time to do it. Your quiet village life is about to become considerably more complicated."
13
The Art of Territorial Marking
