Page 38 of Crown of Light and Ashes
His eyes widen, the color draining from his face. Without a word, he stumbles backward, then turns and flees down the corridor.
I stare after him, my mind reeling with questions I'm too afraidto ask. What frightens me most isn't what just happened with Kaan, or even that others witnessed it. What frightens me is the ghost I just saw in Damir's eyes, and how desperately I want to chase after it, even knowing it can't possibly be real.
Chapter Twelve
Shadows of Jealousy
Kaan
I DRUM MY fingers against the windowsill, watching Nesilhan from my private balcony. She moves through the eastern garden with a grace that makes my shadows curl with hunger. Even in captivity, she maintains that infuriating Light Court posture, spine straight, chin lifted, as if she is a visiting queen rather than my possession.
A week has passed since I took Nesilhan against the corridor wall, her moans echoing through the hallway as court members pretended not to watch. The way she came apart when she realized we had an audience—that flush spreading across her golden skin, her release more powerful than any we shared in private, is burned into my mind like a brand. She is adapting to my court with unsettling ease. The servants fear her. The guards respect her. And I... Ican't stop watching her, can't stop remembering the way she surrendered to pleasure while others watched.
"If you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through her," Emir's voice cuts through my thoughts.
I don't turn. "One can dream."
Emir moves to stand beside me, his face impassive as he follows my gaze. "The Council is waiting, my lord. The border dispute requires your attention."
"The border has been disputed for centuries. It can wait another hour."
"And what exactly are you doing that's so important?" Emir asks, his tone hovering dangerously close to insubordination. He is the only one who can speak to me this way and keep his tongue. Most days, I appreciate his frankness. Today is not most days.
"I'm observing my wife," I reply, waving a hand toward the garden where Nesilhan now kneels beside a bed of shadow lilies. "Making sure she's not planning something... troublesome."
"She's not plotting an escape," Emir says dryly. "She's rearranging your grandmother's prized poisonous flower collection."
I squint. He is right—she is carefully transplanting the deadly nightshade, her slender fingers working with surprising expertise. "How domestic of her. Perhaps next she'll bake poisoned cookies for the entire court."
"You could always ask her what she's doing," Emir suggests. "It's a novel concept called 'conversation.' I hear married couples occasionally engage in it."
I shoot him a withering glare. "I preferred you when you cowered and called me 'Your Terrible Magnificence.'"
"You instructed me to never call you that again after the incident with the Altin ambassador."
"Yes, well, I've changed my mind. Bring it back into your vocabularyimmediately."
Emir sighs, a sound like wind through ancient cypress trees. "The Council, my lord."
I make a dismissive gesture. "Tell them I'm plotting world domination. Or that I have indigestion. I don't care which."
Below, Nesilhan has been joined by three of my younger shadowlords—Reza, Taner, and Volkan. My eyes narrow as Reza gestures animatedly, clearly telling some story that has captured my wife's attention.
"What are they doing with her?" I ask, shadows darkening around me.
Emir glances down. "It appears they're... talking to her."
"I can see that," I snap. "Why?"
"Perhaps because she's the Shadow Lady now, and it's customary to acknowledge one's mistress?" Emir suggests, each word carefully measured. "Or perhaps because, unlike some people, they understand the value of diplomatic relations."
I ignore the jab, watching as Volkan says something that makes Nesilhan's lips curve upward. Not quite a smile, but close enough to send an unexpected jolt of... something... through my chest.
"She never looks at me like that," I mutter, then immediately regret the words.
Emir's eyebrows rise fractionally. "Like what? As if you're not about to disembowel her beloved pet?"
"I don't disembowel pets," I protest. "Children love me. Ask any of the palace urchins."
