"I never forget a debt," Kaan says quietly, and there's something dangerous in his voice that makes even the Peri's smile falter for just a moment.
"No," she agrees softly. "I don't imagine you do."
I feel Kaan's surge of emotion—relief and suspicion and something that might be dread, all tangled together. This isn't kindness. This is Peri making an investment. Getting her hooks into him, ensuring there will be future business between them. A debt unpaid is leverage. And leverage, in the hands of a creature like this, is more dangerous than any immediate price.
But right now, with Banu barely conscious and my mind reeling from the curse and our enemies closing in, I can't bring myself to argue.
The golden smoke begins to swirl around us before I can fully process what's happening. It starts gently, almost playfully, then builds in intensity until it's a vortex, pulling us toward its center.
Through the thickening haze, Peri Ayse's laughter echoes one final time: "Delivered as promised. Safe passage to the Grove. What you do there? That's another matter entirely."
Then we're moving, reality bending around us, and I'm too disoriented to do anything but hold tight to Elçin's arm as the world dissolves.
When the world stops spinning,we're standing in silver moonlight beneath ancient trees that remember when magic was one thing, not divided into courts of light and shadow.
The Forgotten Grove.
For a long moment, none of us move. We simply stand there, breathing hard, adjusting to the wrongness of this place. The silence is absolute in a way that feels unnatural, as if the world itself is holding its breath.
I've never experienced silence like this before. In the Shadow Court, there's always the hum of ambient magic, the subtle vibration of darkness that exists beneath everything. In the Light Court, there's the constant hum of celestial power, bright and almost aggressive in its presence. But here? Here there's nothing. Or rather, there's everything—so much ancient magic layered upon ancient magic that it's become soundless, like standing at the center of a perfectly balanced scale.
The trees around us are wrong in ways I can't immediately articulate. They're old—so old that I suspect they were here before the courts formed, before magic split into light and shadow and everything in between. Their bark shimmers with colors. Their leaves turn from green and gold to silver, shifting depending on the angle of my gaze.
Banu makes a sound behind me—a sharp, indrawn breath.
Elçin's hand goes to her sword. "Are we?—"
"Safe?" A voice finishes for her, emerging from between the trees like morning mist taking form. The woman who appears is tall and beautiful. She wears a crown of flowers that bloom and die and bloom again in an endless cycle. With each bloom, the petals fall. With each bloom, they return. A perpetual, merciless cycle.
But it's the way Banu gasps that stops me cold.
"Grandmother?"
The word hangs in the air, fragile as glass. In that single syllable, I hear recognition and shock and something that sounds almost like grief.
Queen Morwenna's expression shifts—just slightly, just enough to suggest that smile was never meant to reach her eyes.She looks at Banu, and something like recognition flickers across her ancient face. For a moment, the mask of perfect composure slips, and I see something underneath—longing, perhaps. Or regret.
Then it's gone, buried back beneath centuries of careful control.
"Well," she says softly. "That's unexpected. So you did survive the Light Court after all."
The way she says it—not as a question, but as a statement—tells me she's been tracking Banu's location. Perhaps for a very long time.
I watch as Banu's eyes widen, tears pooling at the corners. Elçin tightens her grip on Banu, as if afraid she might disappear if she doesn't hold on firmly enough.
"Welcome home, daughter of two courts," Queen Morwenna says, and turns her attention to me. The moment her gaze settles on my face, more unwanted truth spills from my lips:
"I don't know what you mean but I'm terrified to find out."
The words escape before I can stop them, brutally honest and completely inappropriate. I want to take them back, want to soften them into something more diplomatic, but the Peri's curse—my curse now—leaves no room for retreat.
Her laughter rings through the Grove like silver bells. It's a beautiful sound, which makes it somehow worse.
"Oh, child. Your education is about to begin."
Banu's hand trembles in Elçin's grip. "Grandmother, I don't understand. How is this possible? The Grove is?—"
"Hidden," Morwenna finishes, turning her attention fully to her granddaughter. The shift is subtle but unmistakable—the Queen's entire demeanor softens, fractionally. "And you've been gone a very long time, little spark. Long enough to forget what home truly is."
