Page 110 of Crown of Light and Ashes
I move silently through our chambers, the assassin's training of my youth returning with each careful step. From beneath the mattress, I retrieve the three silver daggers I hid there months ago—insurance I hoped never to need. Their weight is familiar, comforting against my palm as I slip them into the hidden sheaths in my boots and sleeve.
Next, the small leather pouch of gold and silver coins I'vebeen secretly collecting, tips to servants returned, small winnings from games of chance with courtiers, trinkets sold discreetly to boundary merchants. Not enough for a new life, but enough for immediate survival. I tie it securely inside my cloak, close to my body, where it won't jingle with movement.
My fingers brush against Aslan's vial in my inner pocket, the Blood Severance Elixir he intended to force upon me. The irony isn't lost on me that I now view it as salvation rather than violation. I secure it more deeply in the hidden pocket, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach afterward. A fierce protectiveness surges through me, hot and demanding.
This child—my child—will not share Isil's fate.
I change quickly into practical riding clothes: dark leggings, a loose tunic that won't show my barely-there pregnancy, sturdy boots. The Shadow Lady's finery remains draped across the bed like discarded skin. Let Kaan find it there. Let him wonder, for a few precious hours, where I might have gone for an evening ride—hours I desperately need to put distance between us.
A creak in the hallway freezes me mid-motion. Footsteps approaching. Guards? Servants? Kaan himself? I extinguish the lamp with a quick breath, plunging the room into darkness as I press myself against the wall beside the door, one hand on my concealed dagger.
"Lady Nesilhan?" A servant's voice, followed by a gentle knock. "Lord Kaan requests your presence in the eastern study after the council meeting concludes."
I remain silent, barely breathing. After a moment's hesitation, the servant's footsteps retreat. I count to one hundred before daring to move again.
The palace is alive with preparations for tomorrow's ceremony—Kaan's grand announcement to the court. I've overheard enough to know it involves me, though he's kept the details mysteriouslyguarded. The thought that just hours ago I might have been excited about this future together sends a bitter taste crawling up my throat.
I sling a small pack across my back containing only absolute necessities—a waterskin, dried meat and fruit, a change of clothes, a small dagger for skinning game. The assassin in me knows that speed means survival; the pregnant woman in me worries it won't be enough.
The servants' tunnels will be my safest route—narrow, winding passages built into the walls of the ancient palace, used by staff to move unseen while tending to aristocratic needs. As the Shadow Lord's wife, I'm not supposed to know they exist. As an assassin trained to memorize escape routes, I mapped them within my first week.
I slip into the hidden door behind the tapestry, letting it flap over behind me. Darkness envelops me immediately—a thick, velvety black unrelieved by even the faintest glow. I run my fingers along the rough stone wall, counting turns as I navigate the lightless passage.
Left at the third branch. Straight past two more intersections. Right at the narrow stairwell.
The air grows cooler as I descend, heavy with the scent of earth and stone. In the distance, voices echo through the tunnels—kitchen staff preparing for tomorrow's feast, their conversation bouncing distortedly through the passages.
"—finest shadow wine from the northern vineyards—" "—ceremony like nothing seen in five centuries—" "—the Shadow Lady to be crowned with twilight gems—"
I freeze as a new voice joins them, lower, authoritative. Emir.
"Has anyone seen Lady Nesilhan this evening? Lord Kaan is inquiring after her whereabouts."
My heart hammers against my ribs. Already searching? I press myself into a shallow alcove as footsteps approach my passage, scarcely daring to breathe.
"Haven't seen her since midday, General," a kitchen maid replies. "Though Keela mentioned helping her bathe earlier."
"Send word immediately if she's seen," Emir commands. "The Shadow Lord grows... impatient."
I can hear the careful pause in his voice, the unspoken warning. Kaan's impatience is dangerous for everyone, not just its object. The footsteps move away, and I wait another agonizing minute before continuing my descent.
The passage narrows further, barely wide enough for my shoulders now. Ahead, a faint silver glow indicates the exit near the eastern stables—my destination. I approach cautiously, listening for any sound that might indicate guards or stable hands. Silence, save for the occasional snort of a shadow steed.
I ease the hidden door open a crack, surveying the stable yard. Two guards stand at the main entrance, facing outward. A stable boy dozes on a hay bale near the far wall. No one is looking in my direction.
I slip out, keeping to the shadows as I make my way to the stall housing the swiftest shadow steed—a midnight-black mare with crimson eyes that watches me approach without alarm. These creatures are loyal to the Shadow Court, not to any individual rider. I will have limited time before this one reports my location to its master through their magical connection.
"Just long enough to get me beyond his immediate reach," I whisper, stroking the beast's muscular neck as I secure a light saddle on its back.
The sound of approaching voices sends ice through my veins. I duck behind the steed, heart pounding, as two guards enter the stable.
"—don't understand the rush," one is saying. "The ceremony isn't until—"
"The Shadow Lord doesn't explain himself," theother cuts in. "Just said to ensure all mounts are prepared for the Light Court delegates by dawn."
They move through the stable, checking stalls, coming closer to my hiding place with each step. The shadow steed shifts restlessly, sensing my fear. If it makes a sound, reveals my presence...
Desperately, I reach into my tunic and withdraw a small pouch of dried nightshade berries—treats these creatures favor above all others. I hold one out to the steed, silently pleading for its cooperation. The beast's nostrils flare, crimson eyes fixed on the offering. It remains eerily silent as it delicately takes the berry from my palm.
