Page 50 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"That's a rather simplified version," Elçin says quietly, her voice carrying the weight of someone who knows more than she's saying.
Zohan shoots her a sharp look. "I wasn't aware you were there for the negotiations."
"I wasn't," she replies smoothly. "But I know enough about Shadow Court politics to recognize when a story has…convenient gaps."
The world tilts sideways as Zohan's words sink in. "I married him to save you?"
"You sacrificed yourself to a monster to keep me breathing." There's something in his voice now—an undercurrent of anger he's trying to suppress, but also something else. Something that makes Elçin go very still. "You bound yourself to a creature of darkness and death because you couldn't bear to let me die."
"But why would he want that? Why would he care about saving you?"
Zohan's jaw tightens, and I catch the micro-expression that flickers across his face—something that looks almost like guilt before he schools his features. "Because he wanted you. Had been watching you, obsessing over you from the shadows. When the opportunity arose to have you, he took it." The anger is clearer now, but there's something performative about it that sets my teeth on edge. "He used my life as leverage to get what he'd been hunting for years."
"Interesting," Elçin murmurs, her voice deceptively casual. "And you're certain it was obsession? Not…something else?"
There's a challenge in her words that makes Zohan's eyes narrow. "What else could it have been?"
"Love," she says simply. "Though I suppose from certain perspectives, those can look remarkably similar."
I press my hands to my belly, trying to process this information. The child within me stirs restlessly, as if sensing my distress. "So I had no choice."
"None," Zohan confirms, but I catch the way his gaze flicks to Elçin, measuring her reaction. "You walked into that marriage knowing exactly what kind of monster you were binding yourselfto. And you did it anyway, because you loved me more than you feared him."
The guilt crashes over me in waves. Not just for the choice I can't remember making, but for the brother I apparently left behind when I fled. "Zohan, I'm so sorry. I don't remember, but if I truly?—"
"You don't need to apologize," he says quickly, reaching for my hand before stopping himself—a gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by Elçin. "You gave me life. Everything I have, everything I am, exists because you were willing to sacrifice your happiness for mine."
"How noble," Elçin says, her voice carrying just enough acid to sting. "And what have you done with this gift of life she gave you? How have you honored her sacrifice?"
Zohan's composure cracks slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Elçin says, "that most grateful brothers don't wait months to search for their missing sisters. Most don't arrive with convenient timing just as other family members appear. And most don't look quite so…calculating when they think no one's watching."
The tension in the square ratchets up several degrees. Zohan rises from the fountain's edge, his posture shifting from grieving brother to something more dangerous.
"I don't know what you're implying?—"
"I'm not implying anything," Elçin cuts him off, her own stance shifting subtly into something that screams trained warrior. "I'm stating facts. Your story has holes, your timing is suspicious, and your emotional responses don't quite match your words."
"Time is getting away from us," I say finally, noting how the sun has moved across the sky and feeling suddenly exhausted by the undercurrents I don't understand. The tension between them is making my head pound.
"Of course," Zohan says, but his attention remains fixed on Elçin. "You need rest. But Nesilhan—" He catches my arm gently as I stand, his touch making something uncomfortable twist in my chest. "Please. Stay away from him. You have no idea how truly evil he is, what he's capable of when he doesn't get his way."
"I don't understand?—"
"He's murdered thousands," Zohan continues urgently, and I catch the way Elçin's eyebrows rise slightly. "Burned entire villages for sport. He's a creature of pure darkness who destroys everything he touches. That man you've been talking to, Sinan—he would be so much better for you. Kind, gentle, human. He could give you the normal life you deserve."
The earnestness in his voice, the desperate concern, makes my chest ache. But beside me, Elçin makes a sound that might be skepticism.
"Burned villages," she repeats thoughtfully. "How many, exactly? And when?"
Zohan falters slightly. "I…many over the years.”
"Recent years? Old years? During wartime? Personal vendetta?" Elçin's questions come with the precision of someone conducting an interrogation. "Details matter when you're painting someone as a monster."
Before Zohan can respond, shouts erupt from the direction of the cottage. Emergency, crisis, the kind of commotion that demands immediate attention. I hurry toward the sound, both Elçin and Zohan following close behind.
The scene that greets us is chaos. Old Henrik, the village's most stubborn farmer, lies groaning in the dirt outside Mira's cottage, his weathered face gray with pain. His prized cow stands nearby, looking entirely unrepentant for whatever damage she's caused.
