Page 91 of Crown of Light and Ashes
"She is mine," I say finally, the words revealing more than I intend. "By blood magic, by ancient law, by conquest. What's mine stays with me."
"Even at the risk of fulfilling a prophecy that could end the Shadow Court as we know it?" Elder Sarif challenges, bolder than wisdom would suggest.
My smile is all teeth. "Perhaps the Shadow Court, as we know it, deserves to end. Perhaps it's time for something new."
The words surprise even me as they leave my mouth. A dangerous thought lurks beneath them, one I dare not fully acknowledge. A child of shadow and light could indeed change everything, fulfill the prophecy that haunted both our courts for centuries. But the memory of Isil's lifeless body, of the darkness that consumed me when I lost her and our unborn child, tightens around my heart like a vise. Ican't bear to lose another. Can't risk that consuming rage again, that helplessness that drove me to embrace the monster I have become.
The shadow poison I absorbed during the decades I spent trying to save her still flows in my veins, a constant reminder of my failure. The corrupted light magic has become a part of me now—as much as the darkness I was born with. No child should have such a legacy. No child should bear the burden of a father with shadows where his soul should be. But perhaps that's exactly why the prophecy must never come to pass—too much depends on preventing what I might still become.
Shock ripples around the table. These are words no Shadow Lord has ever spoken—heresy of the highest order.
"This meeting is over," I declare. "Increase security around the palace. Monitor communications with the Light Court and neutral territories. And make it abundantly clear that my wife is under my personal protection. Anyone who approaches her without my explicit permission will serve as an example of why that's unwise."
Without waiting for a response, I stride from the chamber, my shadows billowing behind me like storm clouds. Emir hurries to keep pace, his expression carefully neutral despite the tension vibrating between us.
"That was..." he begins once we're a safe distance from the council chamber.
"Choose your next words very carefully," I warn.
"Unexpected," he finishes. "I've never seen you refuse a strategic retreat before. Particularly when it aligns with your usual preference for isolation."
I've spent decades cultivating a reputation for cold calculation, for strategic brilliance unmarred by sentiment. Yet now I find myself making decisions based on a possessiveness I can barely understand, let alone control.
"She was nearly taken from me once," I reply, the memory of finding Nesilhan in that cottage still raw. "It won't happen again."
The scar on my chest seems to burn at the memory—the jagged mark I carved into my own flesh during that final, desperate ritual to save Isil. Decades of absorbing her curse, watching her suffer while pieces of my humanity died with each transfer. All for nothing in the end. I won't fail again. I can't.
"And the prophecy? The council's concerns aren't entirely without merit."
I stopped walking to face him directly. "The prophecy cannot be allowed to fulfill itself. Child or no child, Nesilhan remains where I can protect her, and where I can ensure that some powers are never awakened."
The words sound more honest now, carrying the weight of genuine concern rather than dismissal. Nothing is simple about a prophecy that has shaped the fate of our realms for centuries. Nothing is casual about the possibility of a child who might inherit both my shadows and Nesilhan's light, especially when those shadows are corrupted beyond redemption.
Emir studies me for a long moment. "And if she wanted to leave? If she asked to return to the Light Court?"
The question catches me off guard, stirs something uncomfortable in my chest. Would she ask that, now that Aslan is gone? Now that she knows her father manipulated her into this marriage? Would she still want to escape me, even after the way she surrenders in my bed, her body arching beneath mine as if created specifically for my touch?
"She won't," I say with more confidence than I feel.
"If you say so, my lord." Emir's tone suggests he's not convinced. "Lady Lysandra has requested an audience, by the way. She's waiting in the eastern solar."
I scowl. "Lysandra? What does that scheming viper want now?"
"She claims to have information about potential threats to Lady Nesilhan."
"Fine. I'll see her now. Where is Nesilhan?"
"In the shadow forest, last I heard. Testing the limits of her new freedom, now that you've allowed her to move about without constant guard."
The irony of giving her freedom while desperately wanting to cage her wasn't lost on me. I nod, already turning away. "Have extra guards patrol the garden perimeter."
As I walk away, I feel Emir's eyes on my back, his unspoken concerns following me like a shadow of their own.
Lysandra's warnings echo in my mind as I stride toward the forest. A price on Nesilhan's head. Threats from the neutral territories. Danger circles closer.
I need to think. Need to clear my head of these distractions.
The familiar path calms me somewhat, though my thoughts remain troublingly fixated on Nesilhan. On the way, her eyes soften when she thinks I'm not looking. On the marks my mouth left on her throat just this morning, and how she didn't try to hide them when she dressed for the day.
