Page 43

Ada

S unlight filtered through the shattered windows of Hakan’s chambers, casting fragmented patterns across the rumpled sheets.

I’d been awake for hours, watching him sleep beside me—a dangerous indulgence I couldn’t seem to resist. In sleep, his face relaxed, the harsh lines of cruelty softening into something closer to the boy I’d loved. The man I’d lost.

I traced the air above his features, not quite touching him. The shadows that usually clung to his skin had retreated in slumber, revealing scars I didn’t recognize—a jagged line across his collarbone, a burn mark on his shoulder. Five years had changed him, hardened him. Yet last night…

Last night, he’d stare at me like I was still his world.

My mind kept returning to his words, tormenting me with possibilities.

“I left to protect you. I staged that scene, broke your heart, made you hate me so you would stay away.” Our encounter had stirred emotions I’d spent years burying—desire mingling with mistrust, hope with fear.

The ease with which my body had responded to his touch frightened me more than his anger ever could.

Could it be true? The thought both thrilled and terrified me.

If Hakan had truly left to protect me from his father, from the ritual, then everything I’d believed for five years was wrong.

And if he had been protecting me all along, what else might be different from what I’d believed?

What would that mean for my life now, for my plans, for those who depended on me?

His eyes opened suddenly, startling me. Green as spring leaves, sharp with awareness despite him having just awakened.

“Watching me sleep?” His voice was rough, a hint of amusement beneath the question.

I pulled back, caught in my observation. “I was deciding whether to smother you with a pillow.”

He smiled, predatory and knowing. “No, you weren’t.” In one fluid motion, he caught my wrist and pushed me back against him. His skin was surprisingly warm, shadows beginning to dance across it when his consciousness fully returned. “You were thinking about last night.”

His arms encircled me possessively, his body curling around mine as though staking a claim. Through our bond, I felt a surge of satisfaction mingled with something darker, more desperate—a need to keep me close, to mark me as his.

“You slept restlessly,” he observed, his fingers tracing the shadows beneath my eyes. His touch lingered, concern flickering through our bond. “And you’re still hiding things from me, and this pain.”

I tensed. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw flashbacks from the past, Ada. In your mind, when we were joined.”

His eyes searched mine with uncomfortable intensity, and my heart beat faster. I knew he could sense things through our bond.

“White walls. Restraints and so much pain, sorrows. Fuck, what’s happened to you?”

I pushed away abruptly, panic fluttering in my chest. I didn’t need his pity, and he didn’t deserve to know. He broke me. Had he seen deeper than I realized? Had he glimpsed secrets I couldn’t afford to reveal?

“Nothing. I needed some time out, stop digging,” I told him, and avoided his eyes.

The sanctuary after my breakdown wasn’t something I was ready to discuss—the white walls of my room, the restraints when my light magic exploded uncontrollably during episodes, the healers who thought my talk of shadow realms and magical foxes was pure delusion.

Those months of institutionalization after I thought he had died were a humiliation I couldn’t bear to share, especially with the man who had caused it.

“What are you so afraid to show me? I’ll see it through the bond eventually,” he asked, not giving up. His grip burned through my core.

The flashback from last night left me needy again.

“I need a bath,” I said, and tried to steady my breathing. “And a change of clothes.”

He didn’t push, but his gaze remained intent. “Through there.” He indicated a door to the left. “I’ll have something brought for you.”

When I slipped from the bed, his hand shot out, catching my wrist again.

“I can fucking smell your arousal, so you better go before I pin you down to the bed again,” he growled, his tone low and fierce. “Whatever happened before—whatever secrets lie between us—changes nothing, because soon I will know.”

The possessiveness in his tone should have angered me. Instead, it sent a dangerous thrill down my spine. He let go of me and retreated to the bathing chamber, shutting the door firmly behind me, breathing hard. There was no point denying how much I missed that man.

As I sank into the steaming water, I allowed myself to think of home, of what I’d left behind.

Of those I protected with my absence. Was everyone safe?

Did they understand why I couldn’t return yet?

I pressed my hand to my heart, feeling the phantom echo of my connection to loved ones even across the distance.

The bond felt stretched thin but unbroken—a reminder of all I stood to lose if I failed.

A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

“I’ve left clothes for you,” Hakan’s words came from the other side. “I have matters to attend to this morning. My guards will escort you if you wish to leave the chambers.”

“So I’m allowed out of my cage now?” I called back, unable to keep the edge from my tone.

“You’re not a prisoner, Ada.” A pause, heavy with implication. “You’re my wife. My bound partner.” Another pause. “Mine. Whether either of us likes it or not.”

His footsteps retreated, the outer door opening and closing. Only when I was sure he was gone did I allow myself to relax, to release the breath I’d been holding.

The clothes he’d left were surprisingly considerate—a simple gown of deep blue that fastened easily without assistance. Not the black I’d expected, not something to mark me as his shadow bride. This was a color I’d favored in the past. Had he remembered, or was it a coincidence?

I dressed quickly, my mind returning to the problem at hand. Two weeks until the ritual. Two weeks to decide whether to trust Hakan’s claim that he could find another way, or to seek escape through the pathways Lady Narin had revealed.

Two weeks to decide what risks I could afford to take, and what secrets I must continue to guard.

The library was mercifully empty when I arrived—row upon row of ancient tomes stretching toward the vaulted ceiling, knowledge gathered over millennia. I had just begun to browse the shelves when the sound of unsteady footsteps and enthusiastic humming alerted me to another presence.

“Well, hello there, sunshine!”

I turned to find an auburn-haired woman weaving between the tables, a half-empty bottle dangling from her fingers. Her mismatched eyes—one blue, one green—held a clarity that belied her staggering gait.

I recognized her from court—Martha, the woman Midas had once favored before casting her aside.

Her fall from grace had been swift and brutal, leaving her to wander the palace corridors seeking solace in whatever spirits she could find.

Even in apparent intoxication, she moved with the fluid grace that betrayed her otherworldly heritage.

She leaned closer, studying me with unnerving intensity.

“I’ve been watching you since you arrived.

Watching him parade you around like his newest trophy.

” She touched the amulet at her throat, a blue eye that seemed to pulse with its light.

“I recognize that look in your eyes—I had it once, before Midas discarded me. We’re not so different, you and me.

Both of us are victims of shadow lords who take what they want and leave nothing but broken pieces behind. ”

Something in her words resonated with my pain, creating an unexpected connection between us.

“If you ever need to time away from the shadows of this grim palace,” she whispered, “find me in the kitchens. I know ways out to the gardens that even the shadow lords don’t remember.”

I took a step back, instinctively wary. “Who are you?”

“Martha’s the name. Fairy godmothering’s the game.

” She flourished a dramatic bow, her movements more controlled than her apparent drunkenness would suggest. “Or it was, before I ended up here.” She took another swig from her bottle and grimaced.

“Shadow spirits. Terrible stuff. Burns like the devil going down, but at least it dulls the memories.”

“You can see my light?” I asked, surprised.

Martha tapped her chest, where a faint golden glow pulsed beneath her skin. “Fae blood. Not much—just a splash from great-grandmama’s indiscretion with a forest spirit—but enough to sense light magic. Enough to feel it calling to me in this godforsaken pit of shadows.”

Despite her inebriated state, her gaze was unnervingly sharp.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Information for information, honey.” She hopped onto a table and crossed her long legs as she studied me. “I have things you need to know. You have the power to set me free from this shadow-infested hellhole.”

I glanced at my guards, who had taken up positions at the library entrance. “What kind of information?”

“About the ritual,” Martha said, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. “About your husband’s father and his plans for your light. About pathways out of this realm that even Lady Narin doesn’t know exist.”

My pulse quickened. “How do you know about Narin?”

Martha’s laugh was brittle. “Oh, sweetie. Everyone with any sense in this place is trying to either use you, save you, or kill you. Probably all three. I just happen to be more straightforward about it because”—she raised her bottle in a mock toast—“I have nothing left to lose.”