Page 81 of Crown of Storm and Silence
"Oh gods," she breathes, dropping to her knees beside me as I collapse.
Her hands hover over the poisoned flesh, and I can see her healer's instincts warring with the knowledge that touching me might poison her too. But love wins over caution, as it always does with her, and she presses her palms against my chest.
Golden light flows from her fingers, not the nuclear radiance from the village but something gentler, more intimate. It wraps around the silver tracery like healing silk, and for a moment—just a moment—the agony recedes.
The healers retreat at a sharp gesture from me, understanding that this conversation requires privacy. They withdraw to the far end of the chamber, close enough to intervene if needed but out of earshot.
Her hands shake in my grip, but her voice is steady when she speaks. "Then restore the blood bond. Remarry me. Let me channel my light through the connection permanently, the way it was before."
The words stop my heart. "No."
"Kaan, it's the only way?—"
"I said no." I rise to my feet, pulling away from her touch as fury builds in my chest. Not at her—never at her—but at myself, at the situation, at the impossible choice she's trying to force. "You don't understand what you're asking."
"I understand perfectly," she says, struggling to stand on shaking legs. "The blood bond would let me help you fight the poison. My light could?—"
"Your light would be consumed by the poison within hours," I snarl, shadows writhing around my feet in response to my rage. "The poison is stronger now, hungrier. It would devour your magic and then feast on your life force until there's nothing left but another corpse for me to mourn."
Her golden eyes fill with fresh tears, and I see the moment reality crashes over her—the understanding that what she's suggesting would kill not just her, but our child. Her hand moves instinctively to her belly, protective and desperate.
"I can't," she whispers, her voice breaking. "I can't risk the baby. But I can't just watch you die either."
The anguish in her voice cuts deeper than any blade. I pull her close, despite knowing my touch carries poison, despite the way the toxin writhes eagerly beneath my skin at her proximity.
"And I cannot watch you sacrifice yourself and our child for a dying man," I say quietly against her hair. "Which is why there is only one solution."
The healers have retreated to give us privacy, but I can feel their eyes on us from the shadows, witnessing the destruction of what little peace we'd managed to build.
"I am the Lord of Shadows and Darkness," I say, letting my voice carry the full weight of my title, my power, my absolute authority. "I have commanded armies, toppled kingdoms, and held death itself at bay for centuries. I will not be brought low by my brother's curse."
I pull away from her touch, steel entering my voice as I make the decision that will either save us both or damn me completely. "I leave for Kara Cehennem at dawn. Erlik will remove the poison or face the consequences of my displeasure."
"Kaan, no?—"
"You will remain here," I continue, my tone brooking no argument. "Under guard, under protection, where our child is safe. I will not have history repeat itself."
Her golden eyes fill with desperate tears, but she can see the futility of arguing with a decision already made. "What if he refuses? What if?—"
"Then I will remind him that some monsters are best left uncaged," I say quietly, cupping her face in hands that tremble with barely contained poison. "Promise me you'll stay. Promise me you'll protect our child if I don't return."
"I promise," she whispers, though we both know she's promising to try.
28
The Threshold
Nesilhan
The armory echoeswith the sound of steel against leather as Kaan prepares for a journey that might be his last. I watch from the doorway, my hands pressed protectively against my belly, as he straps ancient weapons to his poisoned form with movements that speak of ritual more than necessity.
The silver veins have spread overnight, erupting through his skin in raised patterns that pulse with malevolent light. They trace his arms now, creep up his neck, and I can see the way they make him flinch when the metal touches poison flesh. Each breath seems to cost him more effort than the last, and shadows pour from his skin in restless torrents that respond to pain rather than will.
"You don't have to watch this," he says without turning, his voice rougher than it was even hours ago. The poison is changing more than just his appearance—it's affecting his vocal cords, adding harmonics that make the air itself shiver.
"Yes, I do," I reply, stepping into the chamber despite every instinct screaming at me to maintain distance. "Someone should witness what this is costing you."
He turns then, and the sight steals my breath. The man I fell in love with is still there, but sharper now, more predatory. His eyes hold depths that speak of transformation approaching its final stages, and when he smiles, I catch a glimpse of fangs that weren't there yesterday.
