Page 47 of Crown of Light and Ashes
"Three days, if he worsens—" Emir begins.
"You'll be the first to know," she interrupts, then closes the door with finality, turning the heavy key in the lock.
"My, my," I drawl despite the pain radiating through my chest. "Such fierce protection. One might almost think you care."
"One would be wrong," she replies, returning to my bedside with a steaming cup of something that smells truly vile. "I simply refuse to let a shadow curse be what kills you when I have so many more creative methods planned."
Another wave of pain hits me, this one so intense that I can't suppress a groan. The shadows around me respond to my distress, thrashing wildly before settling into agitated patterns across the walls.
"You need to control your magic," Nesilhan says, her voice surprisingly gentle despite her harsh words moments before. "The curse feeds on shadow power. The more you use, the stronger it grows."
"Helpful advice," I hiss. "Next, perhaps you'll suggest I try not being in excruciating pain."
"I'd suggest you try not being an ass, but I doubt that's possible even when you're dying." She slides an arm behind my shoulders, helping me sit up enough to drink. Her touch is firm but not rough, her body warm against mine. The contact sends a different kind of heat through me, one that makes the curse momentarily recede.
The liquid she holds to my lips is bitter enough to make me gag. "By all the shadows, what is this foul concoction? Are you poisoning me after all?"
"If I wanted to poison you, I wouldn't waste good herbs doing it." She presses the cup more insistently against my mouth. "Drink. All of it."
I comply, if only because arguing requires more energy than Icurrently possess. The potion burns going down, settling in my stomach like molten lead before spreading outward in waves of uncomfortable heat.
"Delicious," I mutter once I've drained the cup. "Please tell me it's at least lethal."
"Unfortunately for both of us, no." She eases me back down, her movements gentler than strictly necessary. The way her fingers linger against my skin for a fraction longer than required doesn't escape my notice, even in my cursed state. "It should help fight the curse, though. For a while."
Time passes strangely. I drift in and out of consciousness, the room alternating between freezing cold and unbearable heat. Sometimes I'm aware of Nesilhan moving around the chamber, preparing more potions, changing the cloth on my forehead. Other times, I'm alone with the shadows that seem to have developed minds of their own, forming into faces I recognize—faces from the Light Court massacre, silent and accusing.
In one moment of clarity, I open my eyes to find Nesilhan reading by candlelight beside my bed, her profile outlined in gold. She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes suggesting she hasn't slept.
"You should rest," I tell her, surprised by the concern in my voice.
She looks up, startled. "You're awake."
"Apparently." I attempt to sit up, managing to prop myself against the pillows with considerable effort. "How long has it been?"
"Six days total," she says, setting her book aside and reaching for a cup of water that she holds to my lips. I drink greedily, suddenly aware of my parched throat. "The fever breaks occasionally, but it always returns."
Another wave hits, worse than before. The shadows around the room respond to my distress, whipping into a frenzy that shatters a vase and sends books flying from shelves. Nesilhan doesn't flinch, herhands remaining steady on my chest as she continues an incantation in an ancient language.
In the brief respite that follows, I find myself speaking again, compelled by pain and fever to unburden myself of truths I've never shared.
"The Light Court," I rasp, my voice barely recognizable. "Tell me what you know about the massacre."
Her hands pause momentarily before resuming their work. "I know what everyone knows. The Shadow Court slaughtered innocent citizens during what was supposed to be a peaceful annexation."
"Not at first," I admit, closing my eyes against memories that burn as fiercely as the curse. "I gave the order to protect the citizens. To show mercy. To prove we aren't the monsters they believed us to be."
I feel rather than see her surprise. The bond between us pulses with it, stronger now that her light magic is actively working within me.
"Then what happened?" she asks quietly.
"Emir's lover was killed. Cut down while surrendering." My breath comes in short gasps now, each word an effort. "And I... changed the order. I was so angry. So full of rage. I said no mercy, no survivors." I turn my face away, unable to meet her eyes. "I became exactly what they feared. What I had sworn never to be."
The silence stretches between us, heavy with the weight of my confession. I see something flicker across her face, not quite forgiveness, but perhaps understanding.
"Why are you telling me this?" she finally asks.
"Because the fever is making me sentimental," I reply, attempting humor and failing miserably. "Or possibly because I'm dying and want someone to know the truth."
