Page 106 of Crown of Light and Ashes
A strange sensation tightens my chest, considering her standingbeside me, officially recognized as my queen. Not just my wife, not just the Shadow Lady, but my partner in every sense. I've never shared power before. Never wanted to.
Until her.
A knock interrupts my thoughts.
"Enter," I command, my shadows coiling more densely around me in automatic response.
Emir appears, his face the perfect mask of court propriety that he's perfected over centuries in my service. "The preparations for tomorrow's announcement are complete, my lord. The Twilight Crown has been placed in the vault as requested."
"Good." I turn from the mirror, removing the collar with impatient fingers. "And the Council's reaction to the rumors?"
"Predictable," he replies, the faintest trace of amusement in his voice. "Elder Malik has taken to his bed with supposed heart palpitations. Elder Varis is drafting his third formal protest. The others are simply drinking heavily."
I laugh, genuinely amused by their discomfort. "Let them protest. By this time tomorrow, it will be done."
He nods, his expression shifting subtly as he considers his next words. "The Light Court delegation arrives at dawn. Including Councillor Taren."
"Nesilhan's father," I murmur, my amusement fading instantly. "Make sure he's watched carefully. I don't trust his motives."
"Already arranged, my lord."
I study my oldest companion, noticing the unusual tension in his shoulders, the way his shadows flicker restlessly at his feet. An unease beyond court politics troubles him today.
"What's on your mind, Emir?" I ask, pouring two glasses of shadow wine from the crystal decanter. "You're brooding more dramatically than usual, and that's my specialty."
He accepts the offered glass with a slight bow. "Nothing worthy of your concern, my lord."
"After eight centuries, you still cling to formality," I chide, settling into a chair and gesturing for him to do the same. "Speak freely. Consider it a command if that makes it easier for your rigid sense of propriety."
My general remains standing, his fingers tightening fractionally around the wineglass. "It's... a personal matter."
I raise an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued now. "You have those? I was beginning to think you were born from the shadows themselves, with no personal desires whatsoever. Just appeared one day, fully formed with that perpetual frown already in place."
The corner of his mouth twitches, the closest reaction to a smile I've seen from him in decades. "I assure you, I was born in the conventional manner. Though it’s been much longer than I prefer to remember."
"And yet, in all these centuries, I've never seen you pursue a romantic entanglement." I take a sip of wine, watching him over the rim of my glass. "Not since Aylin."
The name hangs in the air between us, his long-dead wife, lost in the Second Great War between Shadow and Light. Emir goes utterly still, his shadows freezing in place.
"Aylin is not a subject for discussion," he says quietly.
"And yet..." I set my glass down, studying him with newfound interest. "Something has changed. Or rather, someone has caught your attention."
His silence is confirmation enough. I lean forward, genuinely curious. "Who is she? One of the court ladies? A servant with particularly alluring..." I gesture vaguely, "attributes?"
He clears his throat, his discomfort growing visibly. "My lord, there are more important matters…"
"Nothing is more important than this unexpected development," I counter, grinning wickedly. "My stoic, duty-bound general, finally experiencing the stirrings of desire after centuries of self-imposed celibacy? This is the most entertaining development that's happened all week. Well, second most entertaining. There was that incident with the ambassador's pet ferret in the feast hall..."
"I'm pleased to provide such amusement," he responds, the faintest hint of irritation breaking through his composed exterior.
"It's the fairy, isn't it?" I ask suddenly, the realization striking me. "Banu."
Emir's wineglass freezes halfway to his lips, his expression briefly unguarded before his control reasserts itself. "That's absurd."
"It is, rather," I agree, delighted by his reaction. "She's irritating, disrespectful, and entirely too fond of glitter. She's the magical equivalent of a sugar-addled child who's found her mother's makeup. And yet..." I tap my chin thoughtfully, "I've noticed how your shadows actually calm when she enters a room, rather than becoming agitated as they do with most people."
"Your observational skills are clearly deteriorating with age," he mutters, tossing back his wine in a most undignified manner.
