Page 10 of Crown of Light and Ashes
I allow the shadows to dissipate gradually, feeling the familiar slight drain on my energy—a minor inconvenience, but a reminder that even my considerable powers have their limits. I roll my shoulders, dispersing the lingering tension.
"And preventing you from terrorizing more of the palace staff before your wedding," Emir replies, his tone dry but with the slight Northeastern accent that becomes more pronounced when he's concerned. It's one of the many things that make him valuable—this ability to speak truth while maintaining just enough deference. Unlike the sycophants who populate my court, Emir earned his position through competence rather than flattery.
He moves with the efficient grace of someone who hasn't forgotten his humble beginnings as a border soldier, adjusting an ornament on the mantel that wasn't quite symmetrical. His obsession with order—everything in its proper place, every schedule meticulously followed—would be irritating if it weren't so useful.
"It's considered poor form to see the bride before the wedding, you know."
"You're not the bride," Emir points out unnecessarily.
"Details, details," I wave dismissively. "Though in fairness, between the two of us, I suspect Nesilhan has more experience with penetrating objects."
"My lord," Emir says in that particular tone that means he's suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, "we need to discuss your... arrangement. Lady Nesilhan is not justany Light Court noble."
I drop into a plush armchair, propping my boots on a delicate ivory side table because I know it will annoy him. "I'm aware. She's the daughter of Councillor Taren, sister to the incompetent magician who barbecued my tax advisor. What's your point?"
"My point is that our latest intelligence confirms what you've suspected—she is one of the most magically gifted members of her generation, perhaps even more powerful than previously thought."
This, I admit, is interesting. "Even more gifted than I'd heard compared to her brother? The one who accidentally incinerated my tax advisor?"
Emir nods. "Far more. And unlike what we already knew about her brother, our sources confirm she has exceptional control. She wasn't just talented at the Lumina Academy—she was considered their most promising student in centuries."
"Well, isn't that fascinating," I muse, my interest genuinely piqued. "My bride is even more intriguing than I thought."
"She's dangerous," Emir corrects. "Binding yourself to someone with that level of power, who has every reason to hate you—"
"Is strategically brilliant," I finish for him, standing abruptly. Shadows whirl around me, responding to my sudden shift in mood. "If she's truly that powerful, then having her bound to me by ancient magic is far safer than leaving her free to potentially become my enemy."
"Unless she decides to kill you in your sleep," Emir mutters.
"She can certainly try," I say with a predatory smile. "It would make our wedding night considerably more exciting."
"So this is entirely strategic?" Emir presses, clearly unconvinced.
"Besides," I add, rotating my wrist as shadows coil around my arm, "my abilities have their limits, as all magic does. The further my shadows extend from my body, the more concentration they require. Manipulating them inside another living being—now thatdrains power rapidly. It's why I prefer more... conventional methods of torment when time allows."
Emir's expression remains impassive, but I can see the calculation in his eyes. Few know the true limitations of a shadow lord's power—that we can't maintain complex manifestations indefinitely, that each shadow summon pulls energy from our own life force, that we must replenish ourselves in darkness afterward.
"I've seen the way you watch her at diplomatic functions," he says quietly. "Ever since that Light Court celebration five years ago. Your... interest has never been purely political, has it?"
Something cold slithers down my spine. Emir has always been too observant for his own good. He's right, of course. The strategic benefits of this marriage are merely a convenient justification for what I've wanted for years.
"Get out," I say lightly, though shadows begin to gather more densely around me. "Go make sure no one's trying to smuggle assassination tools into my wedding. That would be such a mood killer."
After Emir leaves, I move to the window, restless energy coursing through me. The truth is, Nesilhan has occupied more of my thoughts over the years than she should have. There's something about her that has always drawn my attention—the perfect posture, the controlled expressions that occasionally crack to reveal flashes of genuine emotion.
I've wanted to crack that perfect facade since the first time I saw her.
The memory rises unbidden...
Five years ago. A tedious diplomatic function celebrating some minor Light Court holiday. The first time I truly noticed her, though I'd seen her in passing at previous gatherings.
She wore a gown the color of sunrise, gold and pink, and the palest blue. Her dark hair was partially braided with golden threads and tiny crystals that caught the light with every movement. She laughed atsomething her companion said, head tilted back to reveal the elegant line of her throat.
In that moment, surrounded by light and radiating joyful power, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And I hated her instantly for it.
I watched her throughout the evening, tracking her movements while pretending disinterest. She never approached me—few of the Light Court willingly did—but I caught her watching me once or twice, her expression giving nothing away.
After the function, I returned to my chambers, consumed by restless, angry energy I couldn't dispel. My reaction to her had been unexpected, unsettling—a loss of control I rarely experienced. I needed to reassert that control.
