Page 42 of Crown of Light and Ashes
"Perhaps it's your guilty conscience," she suggests, taking a step back. "Do shadow lords have those, or did you sacrifice yours for extra dramatic flair?"
I grab her wrist, pulling her against me. "This isn't a joke, Nesilhan. There are forces at work here that even I don't fully understand. If you've brought something dangerous into my court…"
"The only dangerous thing I've encountered in your court is you," she interrupts, trying to pull away.
I hold firm, studying her face for any sign of deception. The bond between us pulses with something complex, fear, defiance, and beneath it all, a strange protective instinct I can't quite place.
"You're hiding something," I say slowly. "And I will discover what it is."
"You're paranoid," she counters. "And delusional."
I release her wrist but remain close, invading her personal space deliberately. "Be careful,hatun. I've destroyed people for far less than keeping secrets from me."
"Then destroy me," she challenges, her chin lifting in that defiant gesture that makes my blood run hot. "End this farce of a marriage."
I laugh, the sound echoing off the courtyard walls. "Oh no, my precious light-bearer. That would be far too simple." I lean closer, my lips nearly brushing her ear. "I'm going to unravel you slowly, thread by thread, until every secret you keep is laid bare before me. And when I discover what…or who…you're hiding, the consequences will be... memorable."
She holds my gaze, unflinching. "You don't frighten me, Kaan."
"Then you're not paying attention." I step back, shadows swirling around me. "From now on, you'll remain within my sight at all times. If you need to use the bathroom, I'll watch the door. If you bathe, I'll sit at the edge of the tub. If you sleep…" I smile, showing too many teeth, "...well, that's already arranged, isn't it?"
Her eyes flash with genuine anger now. "You can't.."
"I can do whatever I want," I interrupt. "I'm the fucking Shadow Lord. And you, my dear wife, are now my favorite project."
I offer her my arm with mocking courtesy. "Shall we begin our new arrangement immediately? I believe it's time for the midday meal."
She looks at my offered arm with undisguised revulsion. "I'd rather starve."
"That can be arranged, too," I reply cheerfully. "But it won't change anything. You're mine, Nesilhan. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."
I grasp her hand and place it firmly on my arm, ignoring her attempt to pull away. "Now smile,hatun. The court is watching, and we wouldn't want them to think there's trouble in our perfect marriage, would we?"
As I lead her back toward the palace, I remain acutely aware of two things: the stiffness in her posture that betrays her hatred, and the lingering trace of that strange presence I sensed.
Something is watching us—something ancient and powerful that shouldn't exist within my realm.
And somehow, I am certain it is connected to my mysterious bride.
The hunt for her secrets has just become far more interesting than I anticipated. And I've always loved a good hunt.
Especially when the prey has nowhere left to run.
Chapter Thirteen
The Assassin's Dilemma
Nesilhan
THE MORNING LIGHT filtering through the stained glass windows casts eerie patterns across the breakfast table, painting Kaan's sharp features in alternating shades of crimson and violet. I push my food around my plate, hyper-aware of his gaze on me. Yesterday, he insisted on us sparring again, my muscles ached from the heavy session. Two weeks have passed since the corridor incident during which Kaan maintains constant surveillance over me, and the memory of it still burns beneath my skin like a brand.
"Not hungry,hatun?" Kaan asks, his voice deceptively casual as he cuts into a piece of uncooked meat. Blood pools on his plate, and I wonder briefly if the chef prepared it that way on purpose, a visual reminder of the Shadow Lord's predatory nature.
"I find my appetite diminishes in certain company," I reply, meeting his eyes across the table.
His lips curl into that infuriating half-smile. "Strange. You seemed perfectly capable of tolerating my presence during yesterday's council meeting and our sparring session and our evening meal. Is it the morning light that makes me more intolerable?"
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I refuse to look away. "The council meeting was a political necessity, the rest I was forced to do, and this breakfast is torture by choice."
