The honesty is relentless. It pours out of me like blood from an opened vein, and I can't stop it, can't control it, can't soften it into something less devastating.
His shadows coil around me, not possessive but seeking comfort. They wrap around my shoulders, my waist, gentle and desperate. I let them, because right now I need the reminder that he's real, that this is real, that we're still alive despite everything.
"Tomorrow," he says. "Tomorrow we find out what comes next. Tonight, we rest."
But I know neither of us will sleep. Not in this place. Not with so many questions hanging unanswered in the air between us. Not with the weight of what we've sacrificed pressing down on us like a physical thing.
I turn from the window and look at him—really look at him. There are new lines on his face. Exhaustion has carved itself into his features. His shadows seem dimmer than they usually do, asif the emotional toll of the Peri's bargain has affected even that fundamental part of him.
"Kaan," I start, then stop. The forced truth wants to pour out—wants to tell him how terrified I am, how I don't trust this place, how I'm beginning to suspect that the Peri's bargain might not have been a blessing at all. But I force myself to stop. Some truths are too sharp, too raw, to speak aloud in this moment.
He watches me struggle against the curse. Understanding flickers across his face.
The Peri's prices are paid, but I'm beginning to understand that was just the beginning.
The real cost is only just becoming clear.
And somewhere in the depths of this impossible palace, I swear I can feel something ancient and patient, waiting for me to understand exactly what we bargained away.
CHAPTER 25
THE BEAUTIFUL TRAP
KAAN
The Fae districts are beautiful in the way that poisonous flowers are beautiful—stunning enough to take your breath away, and dangerous enough to ensure it's the last breath you take.
I stride through what the locals call Sarki Mahallesi—the Song Quarter. The buildings aren't built from stone or wood, but grown from crystal. Touch one and you feel it vibrating under your palm, humming with notes too low to hear but deep enough to feel in your chest. The melodies are hauntingly lovely, and according to our pale-faced guide they're the preserved voices of ancient Fae who chose to become architecture rather than face true death.
"Charming local custom," I murmur to Elçin. "Nothing says 'eternal rest' like becoming a wall that sings the same song for millennia."
"Better than our tradition of turning the dead into decorative shadows," Elçin points out, though her eyes track somethingunsettling—the way the crystal formations pulse with what might be heartbeats.
Three days we've been guests in this impossible realm, waiting for an audience that Queen Morwenna has repeatedly delayed, and I'm beginning to understand why Banu spent centuries avoiding family visits. Time feels wrong here—sometimes a conversation seems to last hours, other times I blink and realize the sun has moved when it felt like minutes. Earlier today I watched a man walk up a wall like it was perfectly normal, and no one else seemed surprised. This morning, a shop owner refused to let Yasar enter because his aura tasted like "warmth that burns". I'd found it far more entertaining than I should have.
My shadows keep showing me glimpses of what lies beneath the beauty—crystal walls that occasionally flicker to reveal bone, singing voices that sometimes sound more like screaming. The Fae excel at illusion, but darkness sees through everything eventually.
"Where exactly are we going?" Nesilhan asks, her voice carefully neutral.
"Queen Morwenna wants to see us in Büyüyen Saray," our guide chimes. "Though the palace chooses its own location each day, so we must follow the kelebek yolu."
As if summoned, a stream of butterflies the size of small dragons flow past us, their wings leaving trails of silver light. They move in perfect formation, but I notice something wrong—their eyes are too intelligent, too knowing. Like they're evaluating us.
"Butterfly paths," I repeat. "Of course. Why wouldn't we follow massive butterflies to a palace that relocates itself for fun?"
"Maybe that is their practical purpose," Banu says, then adds with her old mischievous grin, "Though honestly, following giantbutterflies feels like the setup to either a very beautiful death or a very weird orgy. With my family, it could go either way."
I glance at her sharply. The Grove's healing magic agrees with her Fae heritage, but now that I look closer, there are shadows under her eyes that weren't there yesterday. Like the realm is taking something in exchange for what it gives.
"Speaking of protection," I say, "I'm curious what finally convinced your grandmother to see us. Three days of waiting, and suddenly today she's ready?"
Banu's laugh has no humor in it. "Grandmother doesn't do anything without purpose. She once made me wait three months for a conversation about flower arrangements, then revealed it was all a test of patience. I nearly started a war out of boredom."
"What do you think she wants from this meeting?" Yasar asks, his violet eyes tracking the way our guide's form occasionally flickers, like they're not quite solid.
Our guide chuckles, the sound oddly melodic."Her Majesty's purposes are her own. Though she has been... particularly interested in shadow magic lately."
That stops us all cold. My shadows coil tighter around my boots as the implications sink in. An ancient Fae Queen suddenly interested in shadow magic right when we need her alliance? That's either very good timing or very bad timing.
