Page 24

Hakan

“ M idas is here.” Sarp materialized at my side. “In the east chamber, drinking your best wine and looking insufferably pleased with himself.”

“Fucking perfect timing,” I muttered. “Just what I needed—another power-hungry shadow lord breathing down my neck.”

As we made our way through the corridors, a woman’s angry voice cut through the silence. In an alcove stood a woman with wild auburn hair, dressed in clothes too colorful for the Shadow Court, jabbing a finger at a nervous servant.

“Don’t tell me it’s gone,” she demanded, and swayed slightly. “I had half a bottle left.”

“Lady Martha,” the servant stammered, “orders from above?—”

“The palace guards can go fuck themselves,” she spit. When she noticed me, she straightened with exaggerated formality and offered a mocking curtsy. “My lord Shadow Prince. Come to watch the court whore making a scene?”

“Martha,” I acknowledged coolly. I knew her vaguely—a woman with fae blood who lingered in the palace corridors, though I’d heard whispers she was once involved with Midas before some scandal left her broken and drinking away her sorrows. She was tolerated here more out of pity than welcome.

“Your esteemed guest has arrived while my last bottle has disappeared. Perhaps remind your guards that not everything in this palace belongs to them?” Without waiting for a response, she staggered away, dignity somehow intact despite her dishevelment.

“She’s hurting,” Sarp observed quietly. “The spirits are the only thing that dulls her pain these days.”

“Her problems are her own,” I replied dismissively, though something in her defiant eyes had struck a chord. Another casualty of Shadow Court politics.

When we reached the east chamber, Midas lounged in my chair like he owned it, a goblet of my finest wine in his hand—clearly he’d helped himself while waiting, the arrogant bastard.

Midas hadn’t changed—still handsome in that cold, calculated way that characterized Erlik’s inner circle. His silver eyes held the same calculation, the same hunger for power that had once consumed me. Looking at him was like staring into a mirror of my past self.

“Ah, the prodigal son,” he drawled, not bothering to rise. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our appointment.” His eyes flicked to Sarp with distaste. “And you’ve brought your…pet.”

“Personal security,” Sarp corrected. “Hakan gets cranky when he has to clean blood out of the carpets himself.”

“I’ve been occupied,” I replied coldly. “What brings you here, Midas?”

“Your father sent me, of course.” Midas swirled the wine in his glass. Our long-standing rivalry went back decades—both of us favored sons in Erlik’s court, though I by blood and he by cunning. “He’s…concerned about your recent activities.”

“What I do with my resources is my concern,” I said. “Was there something specific my father wanted?”

“He wants to ensure you remember your obligations, Hakan. The Crown of Ashes Ritual approaches, and certain…preparations must be made.”

The thought of performing such a ritual on Ada had bile rising in my throat.

“Will you?” Midas raised an eyebrow. “Because from where I stand, you seem rather distracted by your new bride. The daughter of Gün Ata, no less. A fascinating choice.”

“A necessary choice,” I corrected. “For the ritual.”

With my memories fully restored, I was at war with myself—the man I'd been before, who loved Ada desperately, and the shadow lord I'd become, who'd spent years embracing cruelty as strength.

Every protective instinct toward her battled against five years of conditioning that screamed weakness would destroy us both.

“Yes, of course. The ritual.” Midas waved his hand dismissively, then paused. “I see you encountered our mutual friend Martha in the corridors. She grows more pathetic by the day, doesn’t she? A cautionary tale of what happens to those who mistake their place in our world.”

The casual cruelty in his tone twisted something inside me. “She seemed quite convinced someone had stolen her spirits.”

“Merely protecting her from herself,” Midas replied with a thin smile. “She was once…useful. Now she’s just another broken plaything. Much like your light-bearer will be, after the ritual.”

His deliberate comparison between Martha and Ada’s potential fate sent a chill down me. Was this what awaited Ada? To become another hollow shell wandering the Shadow Court, seeking oblivion in bottles of shadow spirits?

“Though I must say, having seen her myself now, I understand why you might be…diverted from your purpose. She’s even more exquisite than rumored. All that light contained in such a delectable form.”

Rage surged through me. The temperature in the room plummeted as my shadows responded to my fury, frost crystallizing on the windows.

“You’ve seen her?” My voice emerged as a dangerous whisper.

Midas’s smile widened. “I made a point of it. I did more than observe. We had quite the…enlightening conversation.” His silver eyes glinted with malice.

“She walks with minimal escort,” he said with a predatory smile.

“Rather careless security for such a valuable asset. Though I suppose you prefer her to feel…unconfined.”

Something primitive and possessive erupted within me.

My vision edged with darkness, heart hammering with such violence my pulse roared in my ears.

My shadows responded to emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in years—jealousy, fierce protectiveness, and buried beneath it all, love that had never truly died despite my best efforts to kill it.

The room plunged into near darkness as my shadows erupted. My hand shot forward, shadows condensing into a lance aimed at Midas’s throat.

But he was ready. His shadows rose to meet mine, violent obsidian colliding with midnight black. The impact sent shock waves through the chamber, knocking over furniture. The walls groaned under the pressure of our combined power, ice spreading across the stone.

“Touched a nerve, have I?” Midas laughed, his power flaring to match mine.

A tendril caught my cheek, opening a thin line of blood.

“You went nowhere near her,” I snarled, pushing harder.

Midas twisted his hand, redirecting rather than blocking my next attack. A shadow-dagger materialized at Sarp’s throat. “Call off your attack, or your pet loses his head.”

“He’s bluffing, Hakan.” Sarp chuckled, his shadows emerging despite the blade at his neck. But he held back, reading the room—he knew when to let me handle my battles and when to intervene.

“Enough,” I commanded, not withdrawing my shadows but holding them steady. “What exactly do you want, Midas?”

“Merely confirmation of what I suspected.” His eyes gleamed with triumph. “You’re meant to be extracting her light, preparing for the ritual that will give Erlik control over light territories that were his before Gün Ata stole them.”

The territories my father seeks—stolen by Gün Ata, or so our histories claim. Ada once told me they chose light willingly. Another truth buried by centuries of propaganda.

With a violent surge, I pushed past his defenses, shadows slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack the stone.

“Listen carefully,” I growled, pressing closer despite the shadows he was driving into my ribs like knives.

“Ada is mine. Not a topic for your amusement, not a bargaining chip with my father, and certainly not something you ever approach without my permission.”

“Possessive, aren’t we?” Midas wheezed through my grip.

“I once felt that way about Martha. Before I discovered her betrayal.” His smile turned ugly.

“She tried to flee to the Light Court with my secrets. I made sure she’d never be welcome in either realm again. A fitting punishment, don’t you think?”

His casual admission of destroying Martha disgusted me. More disturbing was the realization that I had once been capable of such calculated cruelty myself.

“Your father already knows,” Midas spat blood onto the floor between us. “Why do you think he sent me? He can sense your weakness growing.” His shadows twisted suddenly, slicing deeper into my side. “The ritual requires sacrifice, Hakan. Her sacrifice. Or have you forgotten that part?”

I drove my knee into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs even as his shadows carved furrows across my chest. “I know what the ritual requires,” I snarled into his face. “And I will do what must be done.”

“Will you?” Midas laughed through bloodied teeth. “Because from where I stand,”—he drove a shadow-blade between my ribs, forcing me to stagger back—“you seem pathetically compromised.”

“For fuck’s sake, Hakan, enough,” Sarp called sharply, and moved between us. “He’s baiting you, and you’re giving him exactly what he wants.”

The reality crashed through me with new clarity. Not just Ada’s death, but her complete annihilation—the extinguishing of her brilliant, fierce spirit. My stomach twisted with revulsion. Would she end up like Martha—a broken shell haunting my corridors, seeking oblivion in shadow spirits?

My father’s ancient rivalry with Ada’s father had made him obsessed with claiming her light—not just for power, but for vengeance. It was why he’d pushed me to bind her for the ritual, manipulating the situation so I would bring her back into his reach.

A plan that grew more unthinkable with each passing day. I couldn’t do it, because despite everything, despite my choices and her hatred, I couldn’t bear a world without Ada in it. The thought of her light extinguished forever left a hollow so profound I could barely breathe through it.

“I know what the ritual requires,” I replied, my tone of voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. “And I will do what must be done when the time comes.”

“Will you, though?” Sarp asked quietly, his eyes fixed on me rather than Midas.

Midas rose slowly, straightening his robes. “I share your friend’s skepticism. The great Hakan, brought low by a pretty face and a tragic past. How very…human of you.”