Page 45 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"Everyone needs protecting sometimes," I reply, squeezing his hand. "Even monsters."
The smile that crosses his face is small and wondering, like I've given him something precious he didn't know he wanted.
"Come," he says, tugging me toward the village. "Let's get you home before your brother decides to continue this conversation with steel instead of words."
As we walk back toward the cottage, I find myself thinking about the choice that's been thrust upon me. My husband, who claims to love me but terrifies everyone around him. My brother, who offers answers but brings dangers I don't understand.
And caught between them, a woman who doesn't even know her own name, carrying a child that might be the key to everything.
Tomorrow, I'll have to start making decisions that will shape not just my future, but the future of the impossible life growing inside me.
Tonight, I just want to hold onto this moment—walking hand in hand with a man who looks at me like I'm his entire world, even if I can't remember why I ever deserved such devotion.
Even if I'm terrified of what I might learn when the truth finally comes to light.
15
Ghosts from the Abyss
Kaan
The soundthat cuts through the peaceful night air isn't quite a scream, isn't quite a curse, but manages to combine the worst elements of both into something that makes my shadows recoil in secondhand embarrassment. It's followed immediately by what sounds like a very small, very angry creature threatening to do anatomically impossible things to someone's reproductive organs.
"—swear by every twisted root in the Forgotten Grove, if you don't put me down this instant, I will turn your intestines into party streamers and use your skull as a planter for poison ivy!"
Banu. Of course, it's Banu.
Emir and I exchange glances across our cold campfire, and I see my own resignation reflected in his features. In the three days since she's taken up residence in the cottage with Nesilhan, the fairy has managed to insult half my men whenever she ventures near our camp, reorganize Mira's herb storage according to some system that defies logic, and somehowconvince the village cook that adding flower petals to everything constitutes "nutritional enhancement for expectant mothers."
The fairy's nightly herb-gathering expeditions for Nesilhan's pregnancy needs have become routine, though she insists on going alone despite our warnings about creatures that hunt in darkness. The cottage sits barely half a mile from our camp—close enough for us to hear screams or calls for help, far enough to maintain the illusion that I'm not obsessively watching over my wife every moment of every day.
"Should we—" Emir begins, already reaching for his sword, but his words cut off as another string of profanity erupts from the direction of the old oak grove, followed by a sound that makes my blood run cold.
A low, feral growl. Hungry. Male. Definitely not Banu.
We move through the trees, shadows bending to my will while Emir's own darkness coils around him in protective layers. The sounds grow louder as we push through the undergrowth toward the old oak grove. We finally break through into the moonlit clearing, and Emir goes rigid beside me, a snarl ripping from his throat that makes nearby trees shudder.
An ancient creature has our diminutive fairy pinned against a massive oak with one pale hand fisted in her wild hair, holding her head tilted back to expose the delicate column of her throat. His other hand grips her hip possessively, keeping her small body pressed against the rough bark.
Banu, to her credit, is not going quietly into whatever nightmare he has planned. Her legs are kicking with enough force to dent armor, her hands are clawing at his face and chest, and the string of curses pouring from her lips would make professional sailors weep with admiration.
"—mangy, bottom-feeding, corpse-fondling excuse for a?—"
"Such spirit," the creature interrupts with obvious delight, and his voice suddenly changes—becomes layered withsomething hypnotic and wrong. The air around him begins to shimmer with an otherworldly quality that makes my shadows recoil. "But perhaps we can find a more…harmonious arrangement."
Lord Mikail. Because of course it's fucking Mikail.
The moment I recognize him, both Emir and I move. Emir's shadows explode outward in violent torrents while mine surge forward like dark lightning.
"Stop," Emir snarls as his darkness crashes toward them, but Mikail raises his free hand, and a shimmering barrier of crimson energy springs up around him and Banu. Our shadows slam into it and recoil like they've hit solid stone. "Let go of her, Obur!"
But with his barrier protecting him from our attacks, Mikail's glamour begins to take hold of Banu. Her struggles begin to slow, her curses trailing off into confused murmurs. Her eyes lose their fierce spark and start to glaze over with an unnatural dreaminess.
"There," Mikail purrs, his voice now fully layered with that hypnotic quality that makes the air itself seem to shimmer. "Do you hear it, little blossom? The symphony of your own essence calling to mine?"
His pale hands frame her face with deceptive gentleness, tilting her head back further to expose the delicate column of her throat. The way she begins to lean into his touch, the soft sigh that escapes her lips instead of more curses, makes the situation truly disturbing.
Mikail's crimson gaze flicks to my general with obvious amusement, though he doesn't release his hold on the increasingly pliant fairy. "The loyal hound grows fangs of his own. Still guarding your gates, Kaan, but now he tastes blood."
