Page 103 of Crown of Light and Ashes
The forced lightness in her tone only heightens my concern. "The children were wonderful. They adored your sparkle illusions—Thea was still talking about them when I left." I move to sit on the edge of my bed, studying her carefully. "What's wrong? You look... troubled."
"Me? Troubled? Preposterous." She flits nervously from thewindow to the dresser, hovering above the floor as her wings beat frantically. She adjusts items that don't need adjusting. "Just standard fairy concerns. Dewdrop shortages. Moonlight taxes. The usual bureaucratic nightmare."
"Banu." I fix her with a firm look that stops her nervous fluttering. "I've known you long enough to tell when something's wrong. What is it?"
She hesitates, wings beating so rapidly they become almost transparent. "Did you... have a chance to speak privately with Kaan after I left the garden? About... you know." She gestures vaguely toward my midsection.
I shake my head. "He was called away for a council meeting. But I'm going to tell him tonight."
Her wings suddenly stop their frantic beating, and she drops several inches in the air before catching herself. "Tonight? Are you sure that's... wise?"
I laugh, confused by her reaction. "Of course I'm telling him. He's the father, Banu. Besides, I can't keep hiding it much longer. The morning sickness, my exhaustion—someone's bound to notice if they haven't already."
"But there's no rush, is there?" she presses, her voice rising slightly. "Maybe wait a week. Or a month. Or possibly until the baby's old enough to defend itself with shadow daggers?"
Now thoroughly confused, I frown at her. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't I tell him?"
Banu wrings her tiny hands, her wings beating so fast they're almost invisible. She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. "I overheard something today after I left the gardens," she finally says, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "A conversation between Kaan and Emir. They mentioned someone named Isil."
The name sends a jolt through me—the womanwhose name Kaan whispered during our encounter in his study months ago. The name that made him recoil as if struck, that ended our intimacy as abruptly as a door slamming shut.
"What about her?" I ask, my voice suddenly hoarse.
Banu perches herself on the bedside locker; she suddenly seems smaller, more vulnerable, as she sits on the edge of the wooden surface. "Emir brought up something about Isil." She takes a deep breath. "She was pregnant with his child when she died."
My heart begins to pound, a strange dread building in my chest even as I try to dismiss it. "I didn't know that. I knew she had died."
"She refused to end the pregnancy," Banu continues, her eyes fixed on mine. "Kaan's exact words were: 'When Isil told me she was carrying my child and refused to end it, I lost control. I can't let history repeat itself.'"
The room seems to tilt around me. "Lost control? What does that mean? Did he say anything else?"
"Not specifically," Banu admits. "But Emir warned him not to make the same mistake with you. Nesilhan, he sounded afraid…not just worried, but genuinely terrified of what might happen if you're pregnant."
I place a protective hand over my stomach, trying to make sense of what Banu is telling me. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything terrible. Maybe 'losing control' meant he panicked, or said things he regretted. Maybe they argued and she left."
"Nesilhan." Banu's voice is firmer now, her usual playfulness completely gone. She stands from the table, straight and tense. "You can't tell him about this baby. Not until we know more about what happened with Isil."
"Are you saying Kaan might harm me? Harm our child? That's absurd. You've seen how he is with the orphans, how gentle he can be with me when we're alone."
"I've also seen him torture a man to death and bottle his soul for eternity," Banu counters, her feet lifting off the ground as her agitation grows. "I've seen him crack stone walls with his rage. I'm saying we need to be careful—we need to find out what really happened with Isil before you put yourself and your baby at risk."
My legs suddenly feel too weak to support me. I sink onto the bed, my hand still protectively covering my stomach. The joy I'd carried from the garden evaporates, replaced by a cold dread that seeps into my bones.
"This can't be happening," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I was so happy just moments ago. I thought... I thought we were finally..."
Tears burn behind my eyes, the first I've allowed myself since coming to the Shadow Court. I never cry in front of Kaan, not even when Aslan died, not even when I thought Kaan might kill me. But now, faced with this terrible possibility, my control shatters.
"I thought he was changing," I manage between stifled sobs. "I thought I was seeing the real man beneath the monster."
Banu's small hand comes to rest on mine, her touch unusually gentle. Her delicate, fairy features make her seem almost childlike as she looks at me with genuine concern. "Maybe you were. Maybe this is nothing. But we need to know for sure before you tell him about the baby."
I nod, too exhausted to argue further. The day's emotional extremes—from pure joy to crushing fear—have left me drained beyond measure. My eyelids grow heavy, the weight of what might be true about Kaan too much to bear consciously.
"You need to rest," Banu says, hovering closer. "We'll figure this out, I promise."
She passes her hand over my forehead, and a gentle drowsiness begins to spread through my limbs—a sleeping spell. Part of me wants to protest, but the sweet oblivion of sleep is too tempting to resist.
As my consciousness fades, I see Banu slipping toward the door, silhouetted against the light from the corridor.
