The silence stretches between us, heavy with impossible choices.
"Do it," I say quietly, stepping around Kaan despite his sharp protest. "If this is what it takes."
"Nesilhan—"
"We don't have a choice." I meet his burning gaze, willing him to understand. "The Shadow Court needs this alliance. Our people need this. Whatever she takes from me, it's worth it if it saves them."
For a long moment, he doesn't move. Then, slowly, his shadows recede, not in acceptance, but in recognition that I've made my decision and he won't override it.
"If you harm her," he says to Morwenna, his voice dropping to something fetal, "no army in any realm will protect you from what I'll become."
"Noted," Morwenna replies, utterly unintimidated. "Now. Shall we begin?"
What follows is pain unlike anything I've experienced. Kaan stands in the center of a ritual circle carved with symbols that seem to writhe when I'm not looking directly at them, whileQueen Morwenna begins the process of severing part of our bond.
The agony is immediate and devastating. I feel the connection between us, the emotional thread that's become as natural as breathing, begin to tear. It's like having part of my soul ripped away while I'm forced to remain conscious.
Kaan makes no sound, but I can see the moment the pain hits him. His shadows go wild, lashing out at nothing, and his face goes marble-white with effort.
"Almost finished," the Queen murmurs.
Then it's done. The connection doesn't disappear entirely—I can still feel him there, but it's distant now, muffled, like trying to hear someone speak through thick glass. Half our bond lies dark and empty, and the loss is staggering.
"Part one complete," Morwenna announces with satisfaction. "Now for the truth offering."
The truth-curse activates with renewed force, and I know I'm about to be stripped bare in ways that have nothing to do with clothes.
"Do you blame Kaan for your child's death?" she asks.
"I—" The words catch in my throat. "Sometimes. When the grief is worst, I blame him. But I blame myself more. I blame fate. I blame everyone and no one."
The truth is more complicated than simple accusation, and even under compulsion, it comes out layered.
"Do you feel comfort when the binding pulls you toward Yasar?" Morwenna continues.
"It's... different," I admit, each word pulled reluctantly free. "Not comfort exactly. Just absence of pain. With Yasar, I don't have to remember what Kaan and I lost together. But it's empty comfort. Like numbing a wound instead of healing it."
"And do you sometimes wish you had died that night instead of living with this grief?"
This one makes me close my eyes. "In my darkest moments, yes. But..." The compulsion forces the rest: "But then I think of Kaan alone with that same wish, and I know I have to keep living. For him. For us. For the chance that maybe someday the pain will ease."
The Queen seems almost disappointed by the complexity of my answers. She tries one more time: "If you could change the past, would you still choose to bind yourself to him?"
The answer comes immediately, surprising even me: "Yes. Even knowing the pain that would come. Because the alternative is never having loved him at all, never having carried our child, never having known what it means to be truly seen by another soul. The binding didn't cause our loss. It just means we carry it together."
When it's over, when the truth-curse finally releases me, I'm shaking. But Kaan is there, his tendrils of night encircling me like a protective cocoon.
"I'm sorry," I whisper against his chest. "The things I said?—"
"Were true," he finishes. "All of them. You do blame me sometimes. And you have every right to."
"But that's not the whole truth," I insist. "I love you. Even in my anger, even in my grief, I love you. The curse couldn't make me say otherwise because it's the deepest truth I know."
His arms tighten around me. "I know," he murmurs. "I felt it, even with half our bond severed. Some truths run deeper than magic."
I lean into him, exhausted and numb, but strangely lighter. The Fae trade in memories and emotions. I'd just handed Morwenna three of my most painful truths, and I suspected they were worth more to her than any territory we'd surrendered.
But as Kaan holds me in the aftermath, I find I don't regret it. Some prices are worth paying.
