Page 45

Hakan

I stood in the shadow of an ancient oak, concealed from the courtyard below where Ada moved among a group of shadow children. For once, the persistent ache in my chest was noticeably absent. Strange.

Since our binding, the pain had become a constant companion, flaring whenever my thoughts turned dark or whenever I used words or magic to cause her pain.

What puzzled me was its sudden disappearance when she was happy, as if her joy somehow neutralized whatever magic punished me for my cruelty.

Watching her laugh while she conjured small orbs of light for the delighted children, I felt only an unfamiliar hollowness where the ache should be.

The children—orphans and castoffs, the unwanted of the shadow realm—gazed at her with undisguised wonder.

She glowed in their presence, her light magic creating dancing patterns that they tried to catch with eager hands.

Shadows couldn’t harm her light; they simply passed through, creating mesmerizing patterns that had the children squealing with delight.

Five days had passed since that night when we both gave in to the temptation of old memories, since I’d felt her light respond to my shadows in ways that both thrilled and terrified me.

She’d slept next to me, and these had been the most restful days that I’d had in the past five years.

Of course, we maintained careful distance, pretending that night meant nothing to both of us.

Yet here I stood, watching her like some lovesick fool, trying to understand the connection between her happiness and that fucking pain—or lack thereof.

“Stalking your wife again? That’s not creepy at all.”

I didn’t turn, then Sarp materialized beside me, his ability to move silently rivaling even my own. “I’m observing,” I corrected, my attention still fixed on Ada. “There’s a difference.”

“Ah, yes. ‘Observing.’ Much more dignified.” Sarp leaned against the tree trunk, following my gaze. “Though I suppose hiding in the shadows while staring intensely at someone does technically qualify as observation. In the same way that a predator observes its prey before pouncing.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” I growled, not bothering to glance back at him.

“Only when something truly extraordinary happens,” Sarp quipped. “Like witnessing you smile, for instance.” He squinted at me. “Speaking of which, you look less murderous than usual. Did someone accidentally wish you good morning and live to tell about it?”

I ignored his baiting, focusing instead on the peculiar absence of pain. “Something’s happening with the binding.”

Sarp’s expression shifted, humor giving way to genuine interest. “How so?”

“The pain is gone.” I pressed a hand to my chest, still marveling at the sensation. “When she’s like this—happy, unguarded—I don’t feel it.”

“Fascinating.” For once, Sarp didn’t follow with a joke. “The binding magic responds to her emotional state. That could be useful information.”

Below, Ada had created a crown of light for one of the smallest children, a girl with unusually pale skin even for the shadow realm. The child beamed, touching the glowing circlet with reverent fingers.

“She’s good with them,” Sarp observed casually. “Ever think about having your own? You and Ada seemed?—”

“Hard fucking pass,” I cut him off, the words sharp as broken glass, even when something twisted painfully in my chest watching her gentleness with the children.

I pushed the feeling away ruthlessly. I could never be a father.

I didn’t want an offspring who my father could use as a weapon against me or as an excuse to avoid handing me what was rightfully mine.

And after seeing what my choices had done to Ada, how could I risk inflicting similar damage on an innocent child?

Sarp raised an eyebrow. “Just asking. Most people eventually want offspring. Even shadow lords, presumably.”

“I’d rather be sterile than take a chance at being a father,” I said, disgust evident in my tone. “What kind of legacy would I leave a child? Darkness and cruelty? My father’s poison runs in my veins, Sarp. I’m too toxic, too tainted to even consider it.”

“You’re not your father, Hakan.”

“Aren’t I?” I met his gaze. “Every day, I feel myself becoming more like him. More ruthless. More willing to sacrifice others for power.” My focus drifted back to Ada. “More capable of hurting those I—” I stopped. I wasn’t willing to complete the thought.

Understanding flickered across Sarp’s face, but mercifully, he didn’t push. Instead, he followed my gaze to the courtyard, where something had changed. Beside Ada, barely visible in the shadow of a column, stood a tall, graceful woman with flame-red hair.

“Is that—” I began.

“Melo,” Sarp breathed, his posture suddenly alert, resembling a hunter who’s spotted rare prey. He inhaled deeply, as if trying to catch her scent even from this distance. He was a fucking fool, too, falling for a woman who could never be his.

“She’s showing herself more frequently,” I noted, and watched his reaction with interest. “The binding must have weakened whatever spell restricted her to fox form.”

Sarp’s attention never left her, hunger evident in his gaze. “She’s magnificent.”

“Don’t think with your dick,” I warned. “She’s not what she seems.”

“And what does she seem?” he asked, an uncharacteristic edge to his voice.

“Dangerous. Ancient. Far more powerful than she lets on.” I turned to face him. “And fiercely protective of Ada. She would kill you without hesitation if she thought you were a threat.”

A slow smile spread across Sarp’s face. “My kind of woman, and her threats make me want to desire her more.”

“I’m serious, Sarp. There’s more history between Ada and me than you care to realize. I fucking made her leave me?—”

“Oh, I realize it,” Sarp murmured, his face darkening with something I couldn’t quite read. “I saw what it did to her.”

“What are you talking about?” I pressed, suddenly alert to his change in demeanor.

Sarp glanced away, a flash of regret crossing his features. “The consequences of your choice. After you left…”

“After I left what?” I demanded and stepped closer. “She went completely insane—” He cut himself off, clearly regretting the words as soon as they’d left his mouth.

I glanced at him, probably not hearing him correctly. “What did you say?”

Sarp winced when he realized that he’d said too fucking much. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter, just forget about it.”

“Sarp.” My voice dropped to a dangerous register, and shadows writhed around my fingers. “What are you talking about?”

He looked away, running a hand through his hair. “I said it doesn’t fucking matter, Hakan.”

My control snapped. Shadows erupted from my body as I stepped forward, backing Sarp against the tree. "Fucking tell me what you know!" I roared, darkness swirling around us both. "What happened to her?"

Sarp's eyes widened at my uncharacteristic loss of control, but he held his ground. His eyes were full of pain and regret. I was angry that he knew more than I did. Furious that she trusted him enough to spill her secrets.

"She lost her mind, Hakan," he said quietly. "Went completely insane. Nine months after you left, she broke. I wasn't lucid for a total of about two years after that. It took her almost three years to fully recover."

I staggered backward as if he'd struck me, my shadows recoiling. I started to piece everything together. The pain in my chest returned with crushing force, nearly knocking me off my feet. "Two years?"

“Maybe this had something to do with your father’s spell, but then her light went dark,” Sarp explained, and rubbed his throat. “Couldn’t conjure even a spark. Wouldn’t eat or speak. Just stared at the walls, screaming sometimes. The healers thought she’d never recover.”

Since our binding ceremony, I’d caught fragments of disturbing visions—Ada curled in a dark room, hollow-eyed and broken; Ada restrained in a white-walled chamber; Ada staring vacantly while healers tried to reach her.

These glimpses had troubled me, but I’d dismissed them as nightmares.

Now they suddenly made terrible sense. This was her past, her breakdown—the consequences of my choice that I hadn’t fully understood until now.

I had deliberately driven her away to protect her from my father, believing it was the right choice, but I never knew the devastating consequences.

Fuck, I have been such a fool. I have destroyed her in ways I never intended.

“How do you know this? Did she tell you?” I demanded, digging my fingers into the bark of the tree. I was on the edge of losing control.

“I have my sources,” Sarp replied evasively. “People who owed me favors in the light realm. I kept tabs on her after you left. Thought you might want to know she was all right.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Except she wasn’t.”

I stared at Ada, seeing her anew. The strength it must have taken to recover from such a breakdown, and it was all my fucking fault.

The resilience to rebuild herself from shattered pieces.

All while believing I had abandoned her for power.

My inner voice reminded me that I was trying to protect her while seeking shadows.

My ambition shattered her mind, and that was the reason why she hated me so fucking much.

“She doesn’t want you to know,” Sarp added. “And she’d probably kill me if she found out I told you. So maybe don’t mention it?”

I barely heard him, my gaze locked on Ada as she laughed with the children. The contrast between the broken woman he described and the vibrant force of nature below was stark. How much had she suffered? How deeply had I wounded her with my calculated cruelty?