Page 8 of Crown of Light and Ashes
The privacy ward won’t hold for much longer since my father has left, and I can see the questions in my brother’s gaze.
"Did you know?" he finally asks. "About what Father had planned?"
"No," I answer honestly. "I knew I was an assassin trained for difficult missions, but I never knew Father had been orchestrating this specific plan for me to target Kaan all along. I thought my missions were assigned based on current needs, not as stepping stones to this ultimate goal."
Zoran runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I don't know who you are anymore, Nesi." His voice carries the same tonal pattern our mother had—that slight musical lilt when distressed. Despite his scholarly demeanor, Zoran has always possessed a depth of feeling that I sometimes envy. Where I was taught to suppress emotion, his intellectual brilliance lies partly in his emotional intelligence—his ability to understand people, to connect with them.
"You're still my brother," I say softly. "The one who taught me constellation patterns when we were children. The one who argued endlessly for peace negotiations instead of military solutions."
"And you're the sister who secretly killed people while I preached nonviolence." Bitterness edges his words, but beneath it lies genuine pain. "All these years, I thought you were just... my little sister. The diplomatic one. The one who hated violence."
He looks away first. "I can't believe Father would use you like this. Use both of us—my mistake, your skills—all just pieces in his political game."
"That's what we've always been," I reply, the truth of it settling into my bones. "I just accepted it earlier than you did."
"I'll find a way to stop this," Zoran promises suddenly. "I'll go to the Light Court elders, tell them what Father is planning—"
"No." My voice is sharp. "You'll do nothing of the sort. If you interfere, Kaan will execute you without hesitation. And then all of this will be for nothing."
"So I'm just supposed to let you sacrifice yourself? Let that monster—" He breaks off, his face contorted with disgust and guilt.
I move to him, taking his hands in mine. "Listen to me, Zoran. I have been trained for this. I can protect myself. And when the time is right, I will complete my mission and return home."
"You make it sound so simple," he whispers.
"It isn't," I admit. "But it's what must be done."
He shakes his head like he's ready to argue. I can sense the privacy wards failing, and I don’t want anyone to overhear us."Go, rest." I release his hands and raise my chin.
A part of me expects him to stay, to fight, to reason with his sister, but he leaves, and some bitter part of me gnarls as he leaves. I have to quench that part of me. I can't get sentimental.
I take a moment to center myself, feeling the strain of maintaining so many layers of deception. Just as I've hidden my assassin training behind diplomatic smiles, I've concealed the true extent of my light magic behind minor parlor tricks at court functions—another layer of deception in a life built on them.
I stand at the window, staring out at the Shadow Court's twisted architecture. The perpetual twilight casts everything in shades of gray and deep blue, so different from the golden warmth of the Light Court.
I withdraw to the center of the room and close my eyes, centering myself. Slowly, I extend my hands, palms up, and concentrate. A small orb of light forms between my fingers, pulsing gently with my heartbeat.
I manipulate the light orb, compressing it until it glows with the intensity of a small star, then letting it expand into a diffuse cloud. Control exercises, taught by my first mentor in the Order. Focus and precision—the foundations of both magic and assassination.
The truth about my magic is more complex. While most Light Court practitioners channel their magic externally—creating light beams or healing wounds—mine manifests internally, enhancing my reflexes to preternatural levels and allowing me to sense magicalthreats before they materialize. The Order discovered this rare form of light magic when I was seven and immediately marked me for training.
The orb flickers slightly as I manipulate it, reminding me of the fundamental principle every Light Court mage learns early: shadow and light magic aren't merely opposites—they're complementary forces. Where they meet, they create a reactive boundary that can either nullify both powers or amplify them unpredictably. It's why border skirmishes between our courts are so dangerous; the magical discharge when shadow meets light can level buildings or create tears in reality itself. It's also why a marriage binding between a shadow mage and light practitioner is so potent—our combined powers create something neither court fully understands.
I continue my exercises for what feels like hours, losing myself in the precision and control required. The familiar routine helps settle my mind, bringing clarity to the chaotic emotions threatening to overwhelm me. As twilight deepens outside my window, I sense my time alone is coming to an end. The Shadow Court would not leave a new prize unwatched for long.
A sharp knock interrupts my practice. I dissolve the light instantly, turning toward the door as it opens without waiting for my response.
An elderly woman enters, her spine straight despite her years, her silver hair pulled back in a severe bun. Behind her trail three younger women carrying various items—fabrics, jewelry, cosmetic pots.
"Lady Nesilhan," the older woman says with a perfunctory bow. "I am Mistress Varin, keeper of the Shadow Lord's household. I am here to prepare you for tomorrow's ceremony."
"And if I refuse to be prepared?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
A thin smile crosses her wrinkled face. "Then we will prepare you regardless, and it will be considerably less pleasant for everyone involved."
I consider my options. Fighting now would be foolish—it wouldachieve nothing except perhaps injuring some servants and alerting Kaan to my true capabilities. Better to appear cooperative. Compliant.
"Very well," I say with as much dignity as I can muster. "What does this preparation entail?"
