Page 31

Ada

A week had passed since the assassin’s blade had found its mark, and I was ready to tear the walls down with my bare hands.

The attack had changed everything. What should have been my moment of escape had become another cage, another setback.

I pressed my fingers to the thin silver lines on my face where the blade had cut me, the physical wounds healed but the frustration burning hotter than ever.

My shoulder still ached where the weapon had found its mark, but that pain was nothing compared to the agony of being farther from Kiraz than ever.

I caught my reflection in one of the mirrors—pale, haunted, desperate.

The attack had cost me precious time, precious opportunity.

Hakan’s protective instincts had been triggered, and now he followed me with the intensity of a hunter, convinced that keeping me locked away was the only way to ensure my safety.

Meanwhile, my daughter was out there with Nadine, safe but probably wondering when I would return.

“He can’t just lock me away like I’m a prisoner!” I paced my chambers, frustration mounting with each step. The Persian carpet beneath my feet muffled my furious footfalls, robbing me of even the satisfaction of making noise.

Melo watched from her cushion, fox eyes tracking my movements. Her russet fur caught the light as she tilted her head, seeming almost amused by my distress. Sometimes I caught her staring at her reflection with an expression too complex for any ordinary fox.

“Seven days since Hakan locked me away for my ‘protection,’” I said, my voice thick with desperation. “I need to get back to Kiraz. She’s safe with Nadine, but she needs her mother.”

“Technically, he can keep you locked up. His realm, his rules,” Melo said, her familiar voice carrying that edge of sarcasm I was familiar with.

I stopped pacing and glared at her. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, always,” she replied, though her tone remained sardonic. “But throwing yourself at the walls the way a caged bird does isn’t exactly strategic thinking.”

“I don’t care about strategy,” I snapped. “I care about my daughter. Every day I’m trapped here is another day stolen from us.” I resumed pacing, my anger building. “He thinks he can keep me safe by making me a prisoner. Well, I’m done being grateful for the salvation that comes with chains.”

Melo’s amber eyes gleamed with understanding. “What did you have in mind?”

"Something that will make him drop every guard he has.

I'd been watching him carefully, noting the moments when the cruel shadow lord facade cracked to reveal glimpses of the man I'd once known.

His study represented absolute control—destroy that, and I'd force him to react emotionally instead of strategically.

In those emotional moments, I'd seen traces of who he used to be. Maybe I could use that." I stood up and smoothed my dress. “Something that will remind him of what we shared in those tunnels, how vulnerable he was when he thought he’d lost me.” My voice hardened with resolve. “I’m going to destroy his study. Make him furious enough to come after me. And then…”

“And then?” Melo prompted, her tail swishing with what appeared suspiciously to be anticipation.

“Then I’m going to seduce my husband,” I said, the words tasting as bitter as ash and determination. “I’m going to make him remember why he can’t bear to lose me. And when his defenses are completely down, when he’s lost in me…that’s when I run.”

Melo studied my face carefully, her expression shifting to something more serious. “That’s a dangerous game, Ada. Using intimacy as a weapon.”

“I know,” I said grimly. “But I’m running out of options.”

“Well,” Melo said, and rose gracefully to her feet with that fox-like smirk I knew so well, “if you’re going to manipulate the Shadow Lord, you might as well do it properly.

His study is his temple of control—destroy that, and you’ll have him exactly where you want him.

Emotionally compromised and thinking with parts of his anatomy that aren’t his brain. ”

A dangerous smile curved my lips. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m practical,” she corrected with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “And I’ve been watching you two dance around each other for weeks. Time to cut in.”

I grabbed my traveling cloak from the chair—if we were caught, I’d need to look like I was simply wandering the castle, not planning destruction.

“You realize,” Melo said as we slipped through the shadows of the corridor toward Hakan’s study, “that if this backfires spectacularly, I’m going to have to save you from your own stupidity. Again.”

“Your confidence in me is overwhelming,” I stated dryly.

“My confidence in your ability to seduce men? Unshakeable. My confidence in your ability to think clearly when emotions are involved? Let’s just say I’ve seen you make better decisions.

” She paused at a junction. “Still, destroying his precious sanctuary should definitely get his attention. Nothing quite like breaking a man’s favorite toys to make him lose his mind. ”

The study was immaculate, as obsessively controlled as the man himself.

Ancient tomes lined shelves that stretched to the ceiling.

A massive desk dominated the center, covered with maps, correspondence, and artifacts of power.

Everything arranged with ruthless organization, everything in its proper place.

Perfect for destruction.

“You know he’ll be furious,” Melo cautioned, though her eyes gleamed with anticipation.

“I’m counting on it,” I replied, feeling my light respond to my intent, gathering beneath my skin. “This room represents everything wrong between us—his need to control, to organize, to keep everything including me in its proper place.”

“Well then,” Melo said with savage satisfaction, “let’s show him what chaos is like.”

My power erupted beyond my usual careful control, weeks of suppressed rage and desperation overwhelming the disciplined techniques I'd spent years perfecting.

The emotional intensity amplified my magic beyond anything I'd achieved before—light lashed out in every direction, shattering glass cases, toppling bookshelves, scattering papers that ignited mid-air.

My fury at being caged, at being kept from Kiraz, at Hakan's possessive control, transformed my usually controlled light into something wild and unpredictable.

Weeks of suppressed rage amplified my magic beyond anything I'd achieved before.

“This is for locking me away!” I screamed, and another chaotic wave of power exploded outward. Ancient scrolls disintegrated at my touch. Books burst into golden flames, their pages turning to ash that sparkled and danced in the air, resembling deadly snow.

“This is for treating me as if I am your possession!” A pulse of energy sent artifacts flying, priceless relics reduced to glittering fragments. The stone walls themselves cracked under the assault, spiderweb fractures spreading across the carefully carved surfaces.

“This is for thinking you can control me!” The final burst reduced whatever remained of his organized sanctuary to complete chaos, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.

Something else was happening. The ancient wards built into the study's very stones resonated with my unleashed power, amplifying it beyond anything I'd ever achieved.

This specific combination—my desperate fury, the destruction of magical artifacts, and the wards themselves being damaged—created a unique magical resonance that began to weaken even the oldest bindings.

The boundaries between realms grew thin, reality bending under the weight of my unleashed light.

“Ada—” Melo gasped suddenly, her voice strained with something that sounded like pain. “Something’s happening—the binding—I can feel it?—”

But before she could explain further, the transformation overtook her.

I watched in growing alarm as she glowed, not with reflected light from my power, but with something that came from within. Her small fox form blurred at the edges, as if she were losing cohesion.

"Melo?" I whispered, my voice breaking with fear. What was I doing to her? Had my uncontrolled magic somehow hurt my dearest friend?

She let out a sound that was part fox cry, part something entirely other—a noise of pain and transformation that raised every hair on my body. I tried to reach for her, to help somehow, but she held up a paw that was already changing, already becoming something more.

"The binding—your father's binding—it's breaking—" she managed to gasp, but her voice was changing, deepening, becoming more human with each syllable.

Her small body convulsed, growing and stretching in ways that defied natural law.

Bones cracked and reformed with sickening pops.

Muscle and sinew rewove themselves while I watched in horrified fascination.

Her fur receded into pale, luminous skin, revealing the elegant lines of a woman’s form emerging from the fox’s frame.

The transformation was violent, primal—nothing like the gentle magic I was used to. This was raw power, ancient and untamed, reshaping reality itself. Golden light poured from her changing form, mixing with my own chaotic energy until the entire room blazed as bright as the heart of a star.

“Oh gods,” I whispered, my power flickering as shock overtook fury. “Melo, I’m so sorry—did I hurt you? Did my magic?—”

But even when I spoke, I could see this wasn’t damage. This was a revelation. This was something that had been waiting centuries to be unleashed.

Her spine straightened while she grew to human height, her fox muzzle reshaping into the delicate features of a woman’s face.

Those same amber eyes I’d gazed into for years now looked out from a face of ethereal beauty, framed by cascading hair the color of autumn fire.

When the light finally faded, where my pet fox had been now stood a woman of stunning grace, completely naked and utterly unashamed.