Page 7 of Crown of Light and Ashes
Zoran pales. "You want Nesilhan to kill Kaan? After they're married?"
"The blood binding of marriage is one of the few times Kaan will be vulnerable," my father explains. "His guards will be dismissed for the wedding night. His attention will be... elsewhere."
The implication hangs heavy in the air. I twist my mother's ring again, focusing on the cool metal against my skin to ground myself.
"And if I refuse?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"Will you?" My father's gaze is piercing. "After what he did to your mother?"
The words hit their mark with devastating precision. Images flash through my mind—my mother's broken body, her light magic dimmed forever, the official report claiming "unfortunate casualties during border skirmishes." But those of us who knew the truth, who saw the distinctive shadow burns...
"Kaan couldn't have killed Mother," I say with certainty. "That was fifteen years ago, when he was just a rising commander, five years before he seized the Shadow throne."
"He was there," my father counters firmly. "He was part of the shadow squad that crossed our borders that night. He may not have struck the killing blow, but he stood by while others did."
"What? How could you keep this from me all these years?"
"We have sources," my father says vaguely. "Information gathered over the years. Kaan was a rising power even then, favored by the previous Shadow Lord."
Zoran moves to the window, his back to us. "I can't believe this. All these years, you've both been—" He shakes his head. "And now you're asking Nesilhan to marry a monster, to let him—" He can't finish the sentence.
"I'm not asking," my father says, his voice hardening. "I'm reminding her of her duty. To the Light Court. To her training. To her mother's memory."
The weight of expectation settles over me like a burial shroud. I've always known my training would culminate in a high-value assassination, but I never imagined it would require this level of personal sacrifice.
"How would we communicate?" I ask, my rational mind already moving to logistics despite my turmoil. "I assume I'll be watched closely."
My father's expression softens slightly, perhaps relieved that I'm not refusing outright. "We have an agent in place here—a servant who appears to serve the Shadow Court but whose true loyalty lies with us. She'll bring you your morning tea. Ask for honey with it if you need to pass a message."
"And my weapons?" I ask. "I doubt I'll be allowed to keep my usual arsenal once I'm searched."
He reaches into his robes and withdraws a delicate silver hairpin topped with a moonstone. "This contains a rare poison derived from shadowroot. Odorless, tasteless, and virtually untraceable. It mimics the symptoms of a magical burnout, common enough among powerful magic users that it shouldn't raise suspicion."
I take the hairpin, examining it carefully. The poison reservoir is cleverly hidden within the moonstone itself, designed to release its contents with a specific twist.
"When should I use it?" I ask.
"Not immediately," my father cautions. "The marriage must beconsummated to be legally binding. And we need time to extract maximum political advantage before his death."
Zoran makes a choked sound. I can't look at him.
"How long?" I ask instead.
"A month, perhaps two," my father replies. "We need to establish the political alliance first. Once the border agreements are ratified by both courts, the Shadow Council will be less likely to retaliate violently when he dies. Too soon, and we risk full-scale war."
A month or two of being married to Kaan. Of sharing his bed, his table, his life. The thought makes my skin crawl, yet my training kicks in. I can do this. I've endured worse for shorter-term missions.
"And after?" I ask. "Once it's done?"
"You'll be the grieving widow, returned to the Light Court with our deepest sympathies," my father says. "We have agents placed in the Shadow Court who will help extract you during the chaos following his death. The political alliance will dissolve naturally with his death, but by then we'll have secured the concessions we need."
It's a clean plan. Clinical. I am simply the instrument of its execution.
"I should go," my father says, glancing at the door. "We've been here too long already. Suspicions will arise."
He moves to leave, then pauses, looking back at me. For a moment, I see something like regret in his eyes. "I know this isn't what you would have chosen, Nesilhan. But you were born for this purpose. Your skills, your training—all of it has led to this moment."
Without waiting for a response, he exits, leaving me alone with Zoran.
