Page 49 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"Without protection from someone who knows how to handle political conversations?" Elçin interrupts smoothly, stepping into the room with fluid grace. "I don't think so, cousin. Family reunions can be particularly dangerous when one party has lost her memories and the other has spent months searching for her."
There's something in her tone—not just concern, but the weight of someone who's seen what desperation can drive a family to do. Her hand rests casually near her sword hilt, a gesture so natural I almost miss it.
"He's my brother," I protest, but even as I say it, I remember the strange tension I felt yesterday, the way something about Zohan had felt…off.
"Exactly," Elçin says with a sharp smile. "Brothers can be particularly creative when they want something. Trust me—I have extensive experience with family politics."
Banu looks between us with growing interest. "Oh, this should be entertaining. The diplomatic warrior and the amnesiac assassin, off to have a chat with mysterious family. What could possibly go wrong?"
"I'm not an assassin," I say automatically.
"Muscle memory suggests otherwise," Elçin replies dryly, "but we can discuss your former career later. Right now, we need to focus on what your brother wants and why he's appeared now, just days after my own arrival. The timing is…suspicious.”
I want to argue, to insist that I can handle this alone, but something in her expression stops me. There's knowledge there, experience with the kind of family dynamics I can't remember navigating.
"Fine," I concede. "But let me do the talking."
"Of course," Elçin agrees. "I'll just stand there looking decorative and heavily armed. Very reassuring for family gatherings."
I've askedZohan to meet me in the main square, where the morning market provides safety in numbers and witnesses to keep any conversation civil. The destroyed statue still lies in twisted bronze fragments, a reminder of my volatile magic and the danger I apparently pose when emotions run too high.
He's waiting for me by the fountain, hands clasped behind his back as he studies the metallic carnage with what might be professional interest. In daylight, without Kaan's menacing presence, he looks younger somehow. Still beautiful in that ethereal way that speaks of otherworldly blood, but there's something almost boyish about his expression as he watches me approach.
Elçin moves beside me with the fluid silence of a trained warrior, and I catch the way Zohan's posture shifts when he notices her—subtle, but definitely wary.
"Nesilhan," he says, my name carrying such relief that it makes my chest tight. "Thank you for coming. I wasn't sure—after yesterday—" His eyes flick to Elçin, and I catch the flash of recognition—and wariness—that crosses his features. "I see you brought the Iron Rose of the Northern Reaches."
"Hello, Zohan," Elçin says with cool politeness, her tone carrying the weight of professional courtesy rather than warmth. "What brings you to this peaceful village?"
"I was about to ask you the very same thing," he replies smoothly, though there's an edge beneath his words.
Before she can answer, I step forward, unwilling to let this turn into some kind of professional standoff. "You know each other?"
"We've…crossed paths," Elçin says diplomatically. "Different circles, but our work occasionally overlapped."
Zohan's smile becomes more guarded. "And now we're both here, looking for the same person. How…convenient.”
"Convenient indeed," Elçin says softly, her voice carrying just enough edge to be noticed. "Almost as if certain events have been…orchestrated.”
Zohan's laugh sounds forced. "You give me too much credit. I've been searching for my sister for months. I only recently learned she might be here."
"Mmm." Elçin's response is noncommittal, but I catch the way her hand shifts slightly closer to her weapon. "And how, exactly, did you learn that? The same way I did, perhaps?"
Before Zohan can respond, I interrupt, needing to understand who I was before these professional tensions overshadow everything else.
"I need to know," I say, settling onto the fountain's edge with my hands folded over my growing belly. "I need to understand who I was, who we were to each other. My memories are gone, but you're the only family I have left."
Pain flickers across Zohan's perfect features, and for a moment, something almost vulnerable shows through hispolished exterior. "We were everything to each other once. You were my protector, my closest friend, the only person who truly understood what it meant to grow up in our world." He sits beside me, careful to maintain a respectful distance, though I notice how Elçin positions herself where she can watch both him and the square's entrances. "You always made sure I had everything I needed, that I was safe."
"Tell me about our childhood," I say quietly. "Help me understand."
His smile is soft, nostalgic. "You used to comfort me when I had nightmares. You'd sit by my bed for hours, braiding flowers into my hair while you hummed softly, until I fell asleep." He pauses, lost in memory. "You were fearless, even as a child. Always standing between me and anything that might hurt me."
The image he paints feels right somehow, resonating with something deep in my chest that recognizes the truth of protective love. "What changed?"
"Political intrigue," he says simply, but I catch the way Elçin's expression sharpens at his words. She knows something about this.
Zohan continues, his voice growing heavier. "I was accused of treason. There was an incident—I killed one of the shadow advisers, but it was an accident. I turned to ask him something, and my magic lashed out instinctively. Turned him to ash before I could control it." His voice drops to barely above a whisper. "But accident or not, I was going to be executed. The Shadow Lord offered a deal. Your hand in marriage in exchange for my life."
