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Hakan

A da whirled toward me, color draining from her face. Her hands moved quickly to conceal something in the folds of her dress, and I was instantly fucking livid. In the dim light of the ancient corridor, her eyes were wide with unmistakable guilt.

My shadow vision pierced through the fabric of her dress, revealing the glint of silver ink against parchment—an enchanted map. Ancient pathways marked in script that seemed to pulse with its own light. So she hadn’t been sleepwalking at all.

“Hakan,” she breathed, and took an instinctive step back. “I was just?—”

“Exploring forbidden corridors in the oldest part of the palace?” I stalked closer, shadows coiling around me like hunting hounds. The pain in my chest sharpened when I approached her. “Try again.”

Her gaze darted past me, searching for escape. Finding none, she squared her shoulders. “I was sleepwalking.”

The excuse was so unexpected I nearly laughed. “Sleepwalking?”

“Yes.” Her chin lifted, defiance masking fear. “It used to happen when we were younger. You remember.”

I studied her face, searching for the lie. To my surprise, there was truth in her claim—she had suffered episodes of sleepwalking in the past. But her eyes now were too alert, too calculating.

“You expect me to believe you sleep walked to the one section of the palace that happens to contain ancient magic?” My voice dripped with skepticism.

“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” she replied, and feigned indifference. “But it’s the truth. I woke up here just moments before you arrived.”

I moved closer, deliberately invading her space.

Her scent enveloped me—jasmine and light, with an undercurrent of fear she couldn’t quite hide.

The dull ache in my chest intensified with proximity—a physical manifestation of our magical binding that had appeared after the ceremony.

Part warning, part punishment, the pain flared whenever thoughts of harming her crossed my mind.

Since the wedding, the pain was more bearable when we were close, as though our bonded magic sought equilibrium.

The binding had created an unexpected connection beyond the pain—a magical tether that allowed me to sense her emotions and, at times, even glimpses of her surface thoughts.

The strength of this link was something neither of us had fully anticipated, making it increasingly difficult to hide my true intentions from her, or hers from me.

“Show me what you’re hiding,” I demanded, and extended my hand.

“I’m not hiding anything,” she insisted, and took another step back until she hit the wall.

I crowded her against the ancient stone, caging her with my arms. “The silver ink gave it away,” I said. I watched her eyes widen with understanding. “Ancient pathways marked in enchanted script. My shadow vision sees through more than just darkness, Ada.”

Her eyes flashed with panic while I reached for her sleeve, but the moment my fingers brushed the fabric, a pulse of pure light erupted from her skin. The magic wasn’t controlled—it exploded outward in a defensive burst that even she seemed surprised by. I staggered back.

When my vision cleared, Ada stood staring at her own hands in apparent shock.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and for once she sounded genuine. “I didn’t mean to—I couldn’t control it.”

A memory surfaced—Ada at seventeen, waking disoriented in the palace gardens, light magic crackling uncontrollably around her. I’d found her then, too, confused and frightened by her own power.

Could she be telling the truth now? The uncontrolled nature of that magical outburst suggested it was possible.

“Where is your fox shadow?” I asked, and noted Melo’s absence.

“She wasn’t with me when I woke,” she said carefully. “Melo doesn’t follow when I sleepwalk—she learned long ago that trying to guide me back to bed only makes the episodes worse.”

That was curious—but it made sense. The guardian’s protective instincts would war with the knowledge that interference often prolonged Ada’s sleepwalking episodes.

“Come,” I said abruptly, and took her arm. “We’re leaving.”

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, and tried to pull free.

“To my chambers,” I replied, and tightened my grip. “Where I can ensure you don’t go wandering into danger again.”

“Your chambers?” she repeated, genuine alarm in her voice. “But we agreed I would maintain my own quarters despite the marriage ceremony.”

“That arrangement has proven inadequate to keep you safe,” I replied, my tone brooking no argument. “Until the ritual, you stay where I can ensure you don’t go wandering—even in your sleep.”

We reached my private chambers, and I pushed open the heavy doors, guiding her inside. She stood stiffly in the center of the room, eyeing the massive bed with thinly veiled apprehension.

“You’ll sleep here,” I informed her. I released her arm.

“With you?” she asked, tension evident in every line of her body.

“Is the thought so repulsive?” I countered, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “You didn’t seem to find me repulsive in the garden.”

Color rose in her cheeks. “That was…different.”

“Was it?” I moved closer, and watched her pulse quicken at my approach. “Or is this just another game you’re playing, Ada? Another manipulation?”

She met my gaze steadily. “Not everything is a game, Hakan.”

"No?" I laughed bitterly. "My father seems to think otherwise. He believes you're playing me quite expertly."

Something like hurt flashed in her eyes. “I don’t care what your father thinks.”

“You should,” I replied coldly. “Because in two weeks, when the winter solstice aligns the shadow and light realms, he expects me to drain your light completely for the Crown of Ashes Ritual—the ceremony that will supposedly grant me complete dominion over both realms. And if I don’t…

” I left the threat hanging. “He’ll do it himself, and ensure you suffer every moment. ”

Her expression hardened. “Then why delay? Why not just get it over with now?”

Her accusation found its mark, sharp and true. Why was I searching for alternatives when the winter solstice—and the alignment of shadow and light realms—was only two weeks away? Why risk my father’s wrath by delaying what he saw as inevitable?

The words felt toxic as I spoke them. Part of me—the part still clawing its way back from my father’s spell—wanted to take them back, to tell her the truth. But I couldn’t risk it. Not yet. Not until I knew for certain I could protect her.

“Rest,” I said instead of answering, and turned away. “I have matters to attend to.”

“Hakan.” Her voice stopped me at the door. “What happens after the ritual? If we both survive—what then?”

I glanced back at her. “Then we’ll both be free,” I replied. “You from me, me from my father.”

The shadow spirits burned down my throat. The third bottle offered no more relief than the first two.

“Either you sacrifice her, or I will,” my father had warned. “My methods will be far less merciful.”

I hurled the empty bottle over the wall, watching it shatter with grim satisfaction. The spirits dulled the persistent pain in my chest, but they sharpened the rage building since discovering Ada in that ancient corridor.

What had she really been doing there? Sleepwalking? Or meeting with one of the factions that sought to undermine me?

I pushed myself to my feet, the room swaying as the spirits took full effect. One thought crystallized through the haze: confrontation. I needed answers.

The journey back to my chambers passed in a blur. Ada stood by the window, silhouetted by the night sky. She turned at my entrance, eyes widening.

“You’re drunk,” she observed, wariness creeping into her posture.

“Astute as always,” I slurred, and talked toward her. “And you’re a liar.”

She backed away, palms raised defensively. “Hakan, you’re not yourself. Whatever you think?—”

“What I think,” I cut her off, and closed the distance between us, “is that you’re playing a very dangerous game. Meeting with my enemies. Plotting against me.”

“That’s not?—”

“STOP LYING!” I roared, and slammed my fist into the wall beside her head. “I saw you with the map, Ada. The silver ink gave it away—ancient pathways marked in enchanted script. I’m not a fool.”

Her eyes widened with genuine surprise, then narrowed again. “You can see through—” she began, surprise evident.

“Shadow vision,” I cut her off. “I can see through fabric, walls, illusions—anything touched by shadow. Nothing stays hidden from me in my own realm. Who gave it to you? Narin? Azra? Which faction are you aligned with?”

“I’m not aligned with anyone,” she insisted, anger replacing fear. “I’m just trying to survive until this ritual that you insist will spare me, though we both know that’s a lie.”

“You expect me to believe you found that map on your own?” I pressed.

Ada hesitated, weighing her words carefully before responding. “Lady Narin approached me this morning,” she admitted. “She claimed to represent something called the Shadow Resistance—a faction opposing your father. She offered me escape through hidden pathways.”

“And you believed her?” I asked incredulously.

“No,” Ada replied, and surprised me. “That’s why I was in that corridor—to verify if the pathways on the map actually existed before trusting her offer.”

“Why would you doubt Narin’s intentions?” I pressed. She sounded curious. “She’s made no secret of her opposition to my father.”

Ada’s gaze was steady when she answered. “Because her timing was too convenient. Because she insisted I leave tonight without Melo, claiming my guardian’s magic would trigger alarms in the passages. Because she spoke of a ‘Twilight Sanctuary’ that sounded more like prison than refuge.”

Understanding dawned. “You thought it was a trap.”

“I didn’t know,” she confessed. “That’s why I needed to confirm if the map was genuine. When I found those ancient markings in the corridor that matched symbols on the map, I thought perhaps—” She stopped herself. “But then you appeared.”