Page 20 of Crown of Light and Ashes
I want to fight them. Every muscle in my body tenses with the desire to strike, to use the skills I've spent years perfecting. But I can't reveal that training—not yet. Not when my only advantage lies in being underestimated.
So I stand rigid as they dress me, every touch an insult, every adjustment a violation. My face remains impassive, but my eyes burn with such intensity that one young handmaiden flinches when she meets my gaze.
"I will kill him," I say softly as they lace the gown at my back, my voice carrying in the silent chamber. Not a tantrum, not a threat—a promise, spoken with the same certainty as one might comment on the weather.
"There," Mistress Varin says with grim satisfaction, ignoring my words. "A perfect Shadow Court bride."
She studies me for a moment. "Many have tried. All have failed." Then, surprisingly, her voice softens slightly. "The living must survive, Lady Nesilhan. Remember that."
Mistress Varin glances at the guards."Restrain her," she orders calmly. "Lord Kaan anticipated this might be difficult."
Two guards step toward me, one grabbing an arm each. MistressVarin turns away and from a box I hadn't noticed, she removes what appear to be delicate silver chains. They shimmer in the dim light, strange shadows playing across their surface.
"A gift from your bridegroom," she explains. "Shadow-infused silver. It will prevent any... unfortunate displays of magic during the ceremony."
I struggle as they fit the chains around my wrists, connecting them to a collar that encircles my neck and another chain around my waist. They look like jewelry—elaborate and beautiful—but the moment they touch my skin, I feel the suppressive magic take effect. The small reservoir of light I normally feel within me dims, becoming inaccessible.
Before I can respond, the chamber doors swing open. Guards enter, forming a corridor with their bodies.
"It is time," announces a court official, his voice formal. "The Shadow Lord awaits his bride."
The walk to the ceremonial grounds feels endless. I'm marched forward like a prisoner, which is exactly what I am. The chains clink softly with each step, a constant reminder of my captivity. Servants and courtiers line the halls, watching with poorly disguised curiosity and whispers.
"...too bright for our court, that one..."
"...they say she has powerful magic, though not today with those chains..."
"...doesn't belong here, these Light Court alliances never last..."
I keep my gaze straight ahead, but inwardly snort at the last comment. They're right about one thing—I don't belong here. Not as a bride, but as the blade that will end their lord's life.
The grand courtyard has been transformed for the ceremony. Black marble platforms, crystal orbs containing writhing shadows, dark flowers whose scent is heavy and cloying. At the far end standsthe most disturbing wedding arch I've ever seen—twisted black metal with shadows forming grotesque images.
And beneath it waits Kaan.
He's resplendent in ceremonial armor of black and midnight blue, shadows swirling around him like eager pets. When he sees me, his lips curve into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"My bride arrives," he announces, his voice carrying across the assembled crowd. "Slightly delayed, as I had to remove an impediment to our union. But here we are, at last."
From the looks on everyone else's faces, they don't seem to understand what he is speaking of, so he hasn't bragged about killing Aslan. His cruelty is more precise—a private torment meant for me alone. I should have known his shadow spies were everywhere; no secret is safe in the Shadow Court, especially not one as dangerous as my forbidden love for a Light Court soldier.
As I'm led to stand before Kaan, I scan the crowd, cataloging faces and positions. Exits, guards, potential weapons. Survival habits ingrained through years of assassin training at the Light Court—skills I've kept hidden even from those closest to me, save for my father and those who assigned me this mission.
When my eyes find the Light Court delegation, I spot my father, his expression carefully neutral—the perfect diplomat even as his daughter is chained and forced to marry a monster. Beside him sits Lord Temir, my father's advisor, his face a mask of misery.
The ceremony begins, a twisted blend of Light and Shadow Court traditions. I speak when prompted, my voice mechanical, my mind drowning in waves of grief and horror. The memory of Aslan's final moments plays on endless repeat behind my eyes. His smile that morning, the warmth of his arms around me, the sound of his laughter—all of it gone forever, replaced by the terrible image of his body being torn apart by shadows.
I barely register the words being spoken, the rituals being performed. In this moment, I am not an assassin or a diplomat—I am simply a woman shattered by loss, forced to stand beside the monster who destroyed everything I loved.
"And now," intones the Shadow Court priest, "the blood binding."
A silver chalice and ceremonial knife are presented. Kaan takes the knife first, cutting his palm with practiced ease, allowing several drops of blood to fall into the chalice. When he offers me the knife, our eyes meet.
Time slows as I take the blade, feeling its weight in my hand. The first real weapon I've held since Aslan's death. I could plunge it into Kaan's heart right now. I might even succeed before his shadows or guards could stop me. But then what? I'd be executed immediately, and my chance for true vengeance—for making him suffer as Aslan suffered—would be lost.
Instead, I place my hand in his outstretched hand. His skin is surprisingly warm. I press the blade to my palm and cut—deeper than necessary, watching crimson well up around the silver edge. My blood flows freely into the chalice, mixing with his.
Kaan smiles, leaning close to whisper, "I do enjoy a bride with spirit."
