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I would escape him. I would break this bond. And if I ever had the chance, I would make him suffer.

I met shadow lords and ladies, each radiating power and ambition in varying degrees. Some regarded me with open hostility, others with calculating interest.

“Lady Ada,” purred a willowy woman with shadows that moved like living smoke around her shoulders. “I am Lady Narin. We’ve been most curious about you.”

“Have you?” I asked and accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant.

“Indeed. It’s not often we welcome light into our midst.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Especially one so…pure-blooded.”

“The daughter of Gün Ata’s himself,” added another lord—Yilmaz, if I recall correctly. “A powerful lineage.”

I took a deliberate sip of wine. “Yes. A lineage that comes with certain…expectations.”

“Expectations?” Lady Narin prompted.

As I opened my mouth to respond, Hakan’s voice sliced through my mind again, sharper than before.

Don’t you dare. Whatever you’re planning, don’t.

I felt him probing at my thoughts, trying to discern my intentions. I threw up mental barriers, focusing on my hatred for him rather than the plan forming in my mind.

Too late, husband, I said silkily. Perhaps you should have considered the consequences before dragging me here against my will.

I turned my attention fully to Lady Narin and Yilmaz. “According to ancient law, our binding must be maintained for a sufficient period to satisfy the divine requirements of my inheritance.” I paused and let the implication sink in. “After which, I will naturally reclaim my freedom.”

A ripple of shocked murmurs spread through those close enough to hear.

Hakan fought to keep his expression neutral, but I could see the strain in the tight line of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed and unclenched.

The surrounding shadows darkened against his will, betraying the fury he struggled to contain in front of his court.

A wave of murmurs swept through the assembled shadow nobility.

Some looked shocked at my audacity, others calculating, measuring Hakan’s reaction to their ambitions.

One silver-haired lord leaned toward a companion, whispering something, and they both smiled coldly.

I’d made an impression—and possibly enemies.

Lady Narin’s eyes gleamed with newfound interest, like a predator scenting blood. Lord Yilmaz’s posture shifted subtly, as if he reassured his position. The ripple effect of my declaration was spreading through the room—I’d just announced that the Shadow Lord’s power had an expiration date.

“How…pragmatic,” Lady Narin said, clearly delighted by the tension.

“Merely honest,” I replied. “I believe in clarity in all arrangements, especially temporary ones.”

Hakan’s voice cut through the growing whispers. “If you’ll excuse us, I believe my wife requires some air.”

Before I could protest, his hand closed around my arm, steering me toward a side terrace with inexorable force. The crowd parted for us, avidly interested in every gaze that followed.

You’ve overplayed your hand, Ada. His voice hissed in my mind as he pulled me along.

Did you think I would play the docile bride? I shot back. You’re not the only one with power here, Hakan.

The moment we were alone on the moonlit terrace, he rounded on me. “What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. Shadow magic danced around us.

“Stating facts,” I said calmly. “Our arrangement has terms. I’m merely being transparent about them.”

“In front of my entire court?” The stone railing beneath his hand cracked with the force of his grip. “You deliberately undermine my authority.”

“Your authority?” I allowed my light magic to rise to my skin, creating a subtle glow that pushed back his encroaching shadows.

“You forget yourself, Hakan. I am not one of your shadow sycophants. I am Ada, daughter of Gün Ata, and I bow to no one, especially not the man who murdered my betrothed and forced me into this binding.”

“You understand nothing,” he snarled, shadows darkening.

“I saved you from a fate worse than death. Your precious Deniz was working for the Karanliko?lu faction—shadow purists who would have harvested your light piece by piece. His…other proclivities made him easy to blackmail, easy to control. They used his weaknesses to ensure his cooperation in their larger schemes.”

I faltered, momentarily thrown by his unexpected claim. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” His eyes burned with something beyond rage. “Search the bond, Ada. Feel the truth of my words.”

I hesitated, then cautiously opened myself to our connection, probing for deception. To my shock, I felt no lie—only a grim conviction that chilled me to the bone.

“Why would Deniz…?” I began, confusion momentarily replacing anger.

“Because light is power,” Hakan said, voice dropping lower. “And there are those in both our realms who would consume it regardless of the cost.” His eyes darkened dangerously. “You do not know what forces you’re playing with.”

“I understand more than you think.” I refused to be intimidated. “You need this binding to claim your inheritance, just as I need it for mine. The difference is, I’m not pretending this is anything more than a mutual transaction.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You think you can walk away when it suits you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, more menacing. “That I would simply allow it?”

I met his gaze steadily. “I think you’ll have no choice. Once I have my inheritance, I’ll have the power to break any chains—even yours.”

Something flashed in his eyes—rage, yes, but beneath it, something else. Something almost like fear.

“You know nothing of chains,” he whispered. “Or what it takes to break them.”

The terrace doors swung open with perfect timing, breaking the tension between us. Sarp stood there, leaning against the doorframe with a studied casualness that didn’t quite mask his concern.

“Hate to interrupt this touching marital moment,” he drawled, “but your absence is becoming…noted. And by noted, I mean half the court is placing bets on whether you've killed each other."

Hakan didn’t take his eyes off mine. “Entertain them. You were always more charming than I.”

“I think I’ll return with Sarp,” I said, deliberately stepping away from Hakan. “I’ve had quite enough air for one evening.”

We walked back into the hall together, and I could feel Hakan’s burning gaze following us. The moment we were among the crowd again, I adopted a more reserved demeanor, mindful of the watching eyes.

"Thank you," I said quietly to Sarp, my voice low enough that only he could hear. "I needed the rescue."

Sarp nodded, his usual humor tempered by the political atmosphere. "Just be careful, Ada. This court doesn't forgive perceived weaknesses."

Don't think this changes anything, Hakan's words echoed in my mind, sharp with warning. We're not finished.

I didn’t dignify the threat with a response, instead focusing on navigating the political undercurrents of the gathering with Sarp’s subtle guidance.

“Speaking of companions.” Sarp nodded toward a nearby alcove. “I believe yours has arrived.”

Sure enough, Melo was weaving through the crowd, ignoring the shocked stares of the court. She spotted us and approached with feline grace, her tail held high with magnificent disdain.

“There you are,” she said, though her voice carried clearly despite the murmur of conversations. “I was wondering when you’d remember you have more interesting company than these shadow-obsessed peacocks.”

“Melo,” Sarp greeted, giving a respectful nod. “Always a pleasure.”

The three of us moved toward a quieter section near the great windows, where we could speak with more privacy while remaining visible to the court.

"So," Sarp said, wearing a wry smile, "how are you finding married life? I imagine the honeymoon period has been…illuminating."

"The décor is dreadfully gloomy," Melo replied in her typical directness. "All shadows and brooding. Though the mouse situation is quite good for hunting."

"Ah, yes, nothing says 'welcome to the family' like rodent control." Sarp chuckled. "Though I suspect Ada's more interested in hunting bigger game."

I managed a genuine laugh despite everything. "You always had a gift for understatement."

"It's a talent. I've been practicing my diplomatic skills on our host," Sarp continued, adopting mock seriousness. "Just this morning, I complimented him on how his brooding has reached new artistic heights. The way his jaw clenches when he's furious? Pure poetry."

Across the hall, I could see Hakan deep in conversation with Lord Kaya, but I felt his attention split between his discussion and our group. The bond between us hummed with his barely controlled irritation.

Enjoying yourself? His voice cut through my thoughts with icy precision. How touching that you’ve found such…supportive company.

I kept my expression neutral, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Jealousy doesn’t become you, Hakan. Perhaps if you tried being less of a tyrant, you might have friends, too.

His mental presence withdrew abruptly, like a door slamming shut.

“He’s watching again, isn’t he?” Sarp observed.

"Always," I replied, the single word heavy in meaning.

Melo's ears twitched in amusement. "You know, for someone who claims to care nothing for you, he certainly pays you an awful lot of attention."

"I've noticed that, too," Sarp added in a theatrical whisper. "The way he glares across the room when anyone talks to you? I've seen less possessive behavior from dragons guarding their hoards."

“It’s not about me,” I said. “It’s about control. About winning.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Sarp nodded sagely. “That’s why he nearly shattered a wine glass when Lord Yilmaz complimented your dress. Pure strategic thinking, that.”

But even as I spoke the words, I wondered if I was trying to convince them or myself.

“Perhaps,” Melo said thoughtfully. “But I’ve seen how he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching. Like a man dying of thirst staring at the last drop of water.”

Sarp snorted. “More like a man who’s accidentally set fire to his own house and is now wondering if he can put it out by glaring at it hard enough.”

“Then he should have thought of that before he chose power over love,” I replied, sounding bitter.

“Things aren’t always what they seem in Kara Cehennem,” Sarp said. “Even for those of us who live here.”

The evening continued, our small group maintaining careful political distance while finding moments of genuine connection. I knew I was making enemies, and I knew I was putting myself at risk. But for the first time since being dragged into this nightmare, I felt something like hope.

Seven days until the full moon. Seven days until I could escape this gilded prison and find my way back to Kiraz.

I only hoped that in my efforts to challenge Hakan, I hadn’t set in motion something I couldn’t control.