Page 99 of Crown of Light and Ashes
"My lord." Emir's voice, pitched low but insistent. "The Council requests your presence. Immediately."
My shadows lash out, cracking the mirror across the room in a display of frustration I rarely permit myself. Nesilhan's eyes widen, but she doesn't flinch; she never flinches anymore, a fact that both pleases and unnerves me.
"Duty calls," I snarl, driving into her one final time before withdrawing, leaving us both unsatisfied.
"To be continued," she promises, a wicked smile curving her lips that makes my cock throb in protest at our interrupted activities.
I dress quickly, my shadows clothing me in formal Council attire. As I reach the door, I pause, glancing back at her. She's stretched like a cat on my bed, unashamed of her nakedness, watching me with those golden eyes that see far too much.
"The eastern gardens," I say, the words emerging before I can reconsider. "There will be children there today—orphans from the border villages. Perhaps... perhaps you'd like to visit them."
Her expression softens into genuine surprise. "Children? Here?"
"The orphanage matrons bring them monthly," I explain, aiming for casual dismissal. "For fresh air."
Not for my company, I don't add. The children fear me, as they should. As everyone should. Except her. She who has seen the worst of me and still looks at me some mornings as if I might be worth saving.
"I'd like that," she says softly.
I nod once, then step into the corridor where Emir waits, his expression carefully neutral despite what he must have heard through the door.
"The Council grows impatient," he informs me as we stride through the palace.
"When are they not?" I reply. "What's the crisis this time? Border skirmishes? Light Court threats? Or has someone served the wrong vintage at breakfast again?"
"No crisis, precisely," Emir says, his voice dropping. "But there are... concerns. About Lady Nesilhan."
My steps falter. "Explain."
"There are whispers among the servants," he continues carefully. "They say she's been... sick in the mornings."
The implications inflict a storm of emotions that I cannot name yet, stealing my breath. Pregnant? No. Impossible. Light and shadowcannot create life together—the magical polarities prevent it. Everyone knows this.
Everyone except the voice of prophecy whispering at the back of my mind:A child of both worlds shall lead the new age, bearing the mark of twilight upon their brow.
"Rumors," I dismiss, resuming our path toward the Council chamber. "Nothing more."
"Of course," Emir agrees too readily. "Though if it were true..."
"It's not," I cut him off, my voice sharp with sudden fear. "Light and shadow can't make a child."
"That's what I'm counting on," I add, more to myself than to him.
The thought of Nesilhan pregnant—vulnerable, irreversibly connected to me beyond blood bonds or marriage vows, sends a spike of terror through me so intense that my shadows violently darken the corridor. I think of Isil, of her joy when she told me, of my unforgivable reaction.
When darkness threatens to consume, remember that shadow cannot exist without light...
Her words echo through two centuries of regret. The darkness that consumed me then, that stole my control and left only devastation in its wake... I can't risk that again. Can't risk Nesilhan the way I risked Isil.
A child. My child. The most dangerous vulnerability imaginable.
"My lord?" Emir's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. "Are you well?"
I force my expression into neutrality, burying the terror beneath layers of practiced control. "Perfectly," I lie. "Let's get this Council meeting over with."
But as we continue toward the chamber, my mind races with possibilities I've forbidden myself to consider. A child with Nesilhan'sgolden eyes and my shadow magic. A son, perhaps, with her courage and determination. Or a daughter with her fierce intelligence.
A future I've never allowed myself to imagine, never thought possible, never believed I deserved.
