Page 104 of Crown of Light and Ashes
Please don't do anything stupid, I think hazily as darkness claims me.
I wake to moonlight streaming through my window, the room bathed in silver-blue light. For a moment, I'm disoriented, unsure how much time has passed. Then the memory of Banu's revelation crashes back, and I sit up abruptly, a hand flying to my stomach in protective instinct.
"Banu?" I call, peering around the darkened room.
"I'm here," comes her reply from the window seat. She looks different in the moonlight—subdued, her wings folded against her back instead of their usual constant motion, her silver-blonde hair now a dull, lifeless gray. She seems somehow diminished as she sits with her knees drawn up to her chest.
"What time is it?" I ask, my mouth dry, head fuzzy from the sleeping spell.
"A little after midnight," she says, her voice unnaturally quiet. "You needed the rest."
Suspicion creeps through me as I notice her avoiding my gaze. "Where did you go while I was sleeping, Banu? What did you do?"
She approaches slowly, something clutched in her small hands. "I know it was dangerous, but I had to know the truth. I went to Kaan's private chambers."
Alarm shoots through me like lightning. "Banu! If he'd caught you—"
"He wasn't there," she interrupts. "Still in council meetings, preparing for some border patrol. I remembered overhearing servants mention that Kaan keeps mementos of the dead in his private study. I thought if there was any evidence of what happened to Isil, it wouldbe there. Fairy magic works differently than shadow magic—I was able to slip through the ward barriers by temporarily shifting to the ethereal plane, something shadow magic can't detect."
I notice now what she's holding—a small, leather-bound journal, its cover worn with age, pages yellowed at the edges. My heart begins to pound. "What is that?"
"I found it hidden in a compartment behind a loose stone in Kaan's private study," she explains, her voice uncharacteristically somber. Despite her usual playful nature, she suddenly seems much older, completely serious. "It was hidden with other personal effects—I think he kept it as a reminder, or perhaps out of guilt. The compartment was warded against detection, which is probably why no one else has found it. It's Isil's journal."
Ice spreads through my veins. "You stole from Kaan's private chambers? Are you insane? If he finds out…"
"I had to know the truth," Banu says, unwavering. "For your sake. For the baby's sake." She holds out the journal. "And now you need to know too."
With trembling fingers, I take the small book. It's lighter than I expected, as if the weight of its contents couldn't possibly be contained in something so insubstantial. The cover is soft from years of handling, the leather worn thin at the corners. For a long moment, I simply stare at it, terrified of what I might find inside.
"I can't," I whisper, trying to hand it back. "This is private. It's wrong."
"More wrong than not knowing if your child's father is capable of murdering you both?" Banu asks bluntly. She stands at her full height, wings flaring with unusual seriousness. "Read it, Nesilhan. Please."
My fingers trace the cover, feeling indentations where someone—presumably Isil—had pressed the pen too hard while writing. With a deepbreath, I open it.
The handwriting is delicate, feminine—flowing script that speaks of education and refinement. While I can't be certain this belonged to Isil, the timeline and content suggest it must be hers. The first entries are mundane: court gossip, weather observations, notes about music lessons. Then, about twenty pages in, the tone changes.
Today, I met the most extraordinary man, Kaan of the Shadow Council. While the other courtiers tremble in his presence, I find myself fascinated by the shadows that dance at his command. There is intelligence in his eyes that belies the brutish reputation of shadow wielders. I find myself curious to know more of him.
I flip forward, scanning entries that detail the development of their relationship. Their first private conversation in the shadow observatory. Their secret meetings in the palace gardens. Their growing intimacy as political enemies became lovers.
Kaan showed me a side of shadow magic today I never knew existed—not weapons or torture devices, but beautiful, intricate creations that dance like living art. There is a gentleness in him that he shows to no one else. I feel privileged to be the keeper of this secret softness.
My heart aches at the familiar sentiment. How similar to my own thoughts just hours ago.
The entries grow more passionate, more intimate. Their plans for a life together away from court politics. Their dreams of traveling to the neutral territories where they can live without the burden of their respective courts' hatred. It's a love story that mirrors my own in too many ways to be comfortable.
Then the tone shifts again.
I am with child. Kaan's child. I still can't process my new reality.
My hand drifts to my own stomach, a chill running through me.
Why did I think bringing a child into this world would be safe? The way Kaan looked at me today... I fear for my child's life. Hisshadows are restless, hungry. I've never seen them like that before. I pray I'm wrong about what I saw in his eyes.
I turn the page with dread building in my chest, almost unable to continue yet unable to stop.
Kaan is becoming more agitated. His dark magic is unpredictable. I am terrified of what he might do. His mood darkens day by day. He speaks of protecting me, but his shadows tell a different story.
