Page 53 of Crown of Storm and Silence
He's gone.
One moment he's sitting beside me in the golden grass, the next the dream is empty except for the echo of his presence and the terrible certainty that he's left to do exactly what I feared he would do.
"Kaan!" I call out, but my voice echoes in the empty dreamscape. "Kaan, come back!"
But he's already gone, vanished into whatever shadow realm he inhabits when he's not haunting my dreams. And I know, with the horrible certainty that comes from understanding someone too well, that he's gone to kill the man I just kissed.
The dream dissolves around me as I wake with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs. Outside the cottage window, I can see the first hints of dawn creeping across the sky.
Somewhere in the village, a man who's shown me nothing but kindness is about to die because of my weakness.
And I don't even know if I have the strength to stop it.
17
The Truth
Kaan
The dream shattersaround me like glass meeting stone, her confession echoing in the void where my control used to live.I kissed Sinan. The words replay with the persistence of a particularly vindictive echo, each repetition driving deeper into whatever passes for my sanity these days.
I materialize in my command tent with enough violent force to send camp furniture flying.My shadows explode outward in torrents of pure violence, transforming the interior into a writhing mass of darkness and rage. The very air grows thick with malevolent intent.
The shadow poison in my veins responds to my fury, spreading like liquid fire through my system. My vision blurs at the edges, darkness creeping in as the poison feeds on my rage. Each heartbeat sends another wave of toxic magic through my body, and I can taste copper and ash on my tongue.
"Fucking perfect," I snarl to the empty canvas walls, my voice carrying enough venom to kill small animals at considerable distance. "She kisses the pathetic little hero while I'm slowlydying of shadow poisoning. How absolutely romantic. Perhaps next she'll let him hold her hand while planning their fucking wedding."
The image of Sinan's mouth on hers flashes through my mind again, and something inside me snaps. My fist connects with the tent pole, the wood splintering under the force. Blood wells from my knuckles, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the acid eating away at my chest.
I pace the confines of the tent with violent restlessness, a creature who's just discovered his favorite meal has been seasoned with betrayal and served to someone else. My shadows writhe around my feet in fury, occasionally lashing out to destroy whatever's within reach. A chair becomes kindling. My campaign table splits down the middle with a sound like breaking bones.
The poison surges again, and I double over, pressing my palm against my ribs where it feels like molten metal is being poured directly into my bones. This is what happens when I let emotion take control—the darkness feeds on it, grows stronger, more virulent. But I can't stop. The thought of that bastard's hands on my wife, his lips tasting what belongs to me, makes the poison sing with deadly pleasure.
"Mine," I growl to the empty tent, the word torn from somewhere primal and possessive. "She's fucking mine."
The logical part of my mind—what's left of it—whispers that she doesn't remember me, that she's trying to understand her feelings in the only way she knows how. But logic has never been my forte, especially when it comes to the woman who owns what remains of my soul.
Another wave of poison crashes through me, and I have to grip the broken table edge to stay upright. The darkness whispers sweet promises of violence, showing me exactly how I could make Sinan pay. How satisfying it would be to watch thelight leave his eyes while my shadows slowly choke the life from him.
The tent flap rustles, and Emir's familiar presence cuts through my murderous haze. "The entire camp is awake," he states matter-of-factly, surveying the destruction with practiced indifference. "Your shadows are bleeding into the night sky. Half the men think we're under attack."
I straighten slowly, wiping blood from my split knuckles on my thigh. "Good. Let them think death is coming. Because it fucking is."
"She kissed him," I add quickly, the words tasting like ash. "My wife, the mother of my child, pressed her lips to another man's mouth while I sit here slowly rotting from the inside out."
The admission makes the poison flare again, hot and vicious. I can feel it spreading through my chest, wrapping around my heart like barbed wire. Each breath is agony, but I welcome it. Pain is better than the hollow emptiness that threatens to consume me when I'm not feeling anything at all.
Emir processes this information with the practiced calm of someone who's spent centuries managing my various emotional catastrophes. "I see. And what do you plan to do about it?"
"Kill him, obviously," I reply with the casual tone of someone discussing dinner plans. The poison purrs its approval, showing me images of Sinan's broken body. "Slowly. Creatively. With enough style to ensure no other pathetic hero gets ideas about touching what belongs to me."
"My lord?—"
But I'm already moving, shadows coiling around me as I stride toward the tent entrance. The darkness in my system responds to my fury, spreading outward like spilled ink until even the stars seem dimmer. Night deepens around our camp with unnatural speed, as if the very universe is accommodating my homicidal mood.
The poison makes each step feel like walking through molten glass, but I push through it. Let it tear me apart from the inside. As long as I can still move, still fight, still reclaim what's mine, the pain is irrelevant.
"Kaan, wait—" Emir calls, but I'm already dissolving into shadow, racing toward the village with murder singing sweetly in my veins.
