Page 45 of Crown of Light and Ashes
"Damn it, Banu!" I call into the empty room, but there's no reply.
With Kaan believing me incapacitated and Banu gone, I have a rare moment of true privacy, a chance to work on the nightshade extract I've been developing in secret.
I check the door to ensure it's properly locked, then cross to the windows and draw the heavy velvet curtains closed, plunging the room into semi-darkness. No sense taking unnecessary risks. I light a single lamp—just enough illumination to work by without attracting attention from outside.
I return to the large wardrobe against the wall, pressing the hidden catch I discovered and prepared during my first few days here, before the constant surveillance began. Inside sits a wooden box containing my makeshift laboratory—glass vials, mortar and pestle, dried nightshade harvested from the garden, and detailed notes on my experiments.
The idea came to me during my first week here, before Kaan's surveillance intensified, while I still had access to the palace's botanical texts during my 'recovery' period. Nightshade, when properly processed, can induce a death-like sleep—a state so profound it mimics death in all ways except the finality. If I can perfect the formula, I might be able to administer it to Kaan, placing him in suspended animation rather than killing him outright.
The blood bond would remain intact because he wouldn't truly be dead, yet he would be neutralized, powerless. I could return to the LightCourt, mission accomplished, without suffering the consequences of his actual death.
I work quickly, grinding dried nightshade berries with precise movements. The powder must be fine, the proportions exact. Too much and it becomes lethal; too little and the sleep would be temporary. I'm closer than ever to the perfect balance.
As I work, a stray thought intrudes, a memory of Kaan's expression when I spoke of my mother, that fleeting moment of something almost like compassion. I push it away ruthlessly. He is the enemy. He has always been the enemy. The fact that he occasionally displays human characteristics doesn't change what he is, a monster who had a hand in my mother's death.
I've just sealed a vial of the refined extract when a noise in the corridor draws my attention. Quickly, I return my materials to their hiding place, ensuring the compartment is securely closed before moving to the door.
Opening it a crack, I peer into the hallway. A shadow moves at the far end—not one of Kaan's magical constructs, but a physical presence slipping from alcove to alcove with practiced stealth. The movement is familiar to me; I've used those same techniques myself on countless missions.
An assassin.
I slip into the corridor, barefoot to muffle my steps. The figure is dressed in nondescript servant's clothing, but the way they move betrays their true purpose. They pause at an intersection, glancing around before taking the left fork, toward Kaan's study.
My mind races. I should let events unfold. Another assassin eliminating Kaan would solve my problems, wouldn't it? The blood bond complicates everything. If he dies violently, I'll suffer as well, perhaps not death, but pain beyond imagining.
That's the only reason I follow, I tell myself. Certainly not theunexpected protectiveness that flares when I imagine him dead, or the way our morning conversation had shown glimpses of something almost... human.
I trail the figure silently to Kaan's study door, which stands slightly ajar, a thin slice of morning light spilling into the corridor. Peering through the gap, I see Kaan standing at the window, his back to the door, seemingly lost in thought. His shoulders are set in a tense line, his shadows unusually still around him.
The assassin slips inside, moving with the practiced silence of a trained killer. From my position, I can see the glint of metal as they withdraw a blade, thin and coated with something that gleams wetly in the light. Poison.
The assassin draws back their arm, preparing to throw the dagger at Kaan's unprotected back.
I don't think. I move.
Bursting through the doorway, I slam into the assassin's side just as they release the blade. The impact throws off their aim. The dagger spins through the air, its trajectory altered—but not enough. It catches Kaan on the upper arm as he whirls at the commotion, a small nick that tears his sleeve and draws a thin line of blood.
The room plunges into sudden darkness as Kaan's shadows explode outward, responding to the threat. But I'm already in motion, driving the assassin to the floor with my momentum. They're good—strong, and well-trained, but I'm better. Their body twists beneath mine, trying to throw me off, but I've already locked my legs around their torso, my hands finding their head.
One sharp, practiced movement. The crack of vertebrae. Their body goes limp beneath me.
It happens so fast that Kaan's shadows are still unfurling, reaching hungrily across the room, when the assassin's life is already gone. Thedarkness freezes, then withdraws slightly, coiling around Kaan like agitated serpents as the room's illumination returns.
"Nesilhan?" His voice holds a note I've never heard before, uncertainty. He looks from the dead assassin to the small wound on his arm, where the poison is already creating a web of dark lines beneath his skin.
"You're welcome," I manage, my breath coming in short gasps as I rise from the corpse. "Though I'm beginning to think saving your life was a grave tactical error."
His eyes narrow suddenly, the poison and shock making him lash out. His shadows surge forward, swirling around the dead assassin and then encircling my ankles in a threatening grip.
"Did you kill him to silence him?" he demands, voice ice-cold. "Too convenient that you appeared just in time, that he's now conveniently dead."
I stare at him in confused outrage. "What?"
"You heard me." The shadows tighten around my ankles. "Is this a Light Court agent you needed to eliminate? A loose end?"
"I just saved your bloody life," I snap, bewildered by the accusation.
He steps forward, his face a mask of controlled rage. "No, you just silenced an enemy. A dead one is no good to me." His gaze sweeps over the corpse, then back to me. "I needed information. I needed to know who sent him, what they know."
