Page 98 of Crown of Storm and Silence
I am standing before Kaan for the first time in the Shadow Court's throne room. He's even more beautiful and terrifying than the stories suggested—aristocratic features carved from marble and moonlight, dark eyes that seem to see straight through to my soul. When he speaks, offering my brother's life in exchange for my hand, his voice is silk wrapped around steel.
"A life debt," he says. "From your family to mine. That would indeed satisfy the blood price." He pauses. "However, I have specific terms in mind."
"Name them," my father says quickly, relief evident in his voice.
He approaches me. I hold my ground, even as my heart races with pure fear.
"Marriage," he says simply.
Silence falls like a blade. Everyone seems to collectively hold their breath.
"What?" I whisper, as disbelief courses through me.
"You heard me perfectly well," he replies, circling me slowly. "A marriage alliance between our houses. Specifically, you, as my wife. That would satisfy the blood debt."
"That's absurd," I hiss. "Marriage alliances are for political arrangements, not blood debts."
"Are they not both a form of contract?" he asks like this is all very reasonable. "Besides, I'm being quite generous. One life for a lifetime of service seems rather balanced to me."
"You can't seriously—" I begin.
"The alternative," he continues, voice hardening, "is that I separate your brother's head from his shoulders right now, and we risk open war between our courts. Is that your preference, Lady Nesilhan?"
On our wedding night, I expect pain, expect to endure his touch like a duty. Instead, he takes me with passionate hunger that awakens something wild in me I never knew existed. His shadows wrap around us both as he claims me completely, and when I cry out, it's with pleasure that surprises us both.
Arguing with him at breakfast. Training with him in the courtyard. The memories keep pouring in, mixing from my childhood to my time with Kaan.
Discovering I'm pregnant and spending hours staring at my reflection, one hand pressed to my still-flat belly. The joy is overwhelming, but underneath it lurks a fear I can't name—a certainty that bringing new life into this world of shadows and political intrigue will end in heartbreak.
Asking Kaan about children and watching horror bloom across his features. The shadows that explode around him aren't just magical—they're emotional, a physical manifestation of terror so profound it takes my breath away.
"I can't," he gasps, stumbling backward like I've struck him. "Nesilhan, I can't?—"
"Can't what?" I demand, but he's already fleeing the room, leaving me alone with the growing certainty that the life inside me is unwanted.
And finally, I remember the night I ran. Standing in the forest with the Blood Severance Elixir in my hands, Banu's words echoing in my mind about Isil's journal—how Kaan had killed his first wife and unborn child when the darkness consumed him. The choice between staying and risking the same fate, or drinking poison and hoping that somewhere, somehow, I might find peace.
I chose the poison.
The memories settle into place with agonizing placement, and suddenly, I understand everything. Why I ran. Why I was so terrified. Why the thought of his rejection felt like death itself.
I wasn't just afraid he didn't want our child; I was afraid that pregnancy would make him see me as another Isil, another woman carrying an impossible burden. I was terrified that history would repeat itself.
So I chose to run rather than risk becoming another casualty of Kaan’s.
"Nesilhan," Kaan breathes, and I realize I'm crying, tears streaming down my face as twenty-seven years of life crash into consciousness like a battering ram.
The bond between us pulses with renewed strength, and through it I can feel everything he feels, the desperate relief at having me back, the guilt over his reaction to my pregnancy, the self-loathing that's eaten away at him for months. But underneath it all, threading through every emotion like golden wire, is love so profound it takes my breath away.
He loves me. He has always loved me. His terror wasn't rejection; it was the fear of losing me the way he lost Isil.
"I remember," I whisper, my voice breaking on the words. "I remember everything."
His face crumbles with equal parts relief and devastation. "Nesilhan, I'm so sorry. The way I reacted when you asked about children?—"
"You were terrified," I interrupt, understanding flooding through me. "You thought history would repeat itself. You thought Erlik would find a way to destroy us, too."
"I should have explained," he says desperately. "Should have told you about Isil, about the curse. Instead, I let you think?—"
