I could kiss her. If Nesilhan wouldn't immediately murder both of us for the attempt.
"My lord," Lady Almila says, "the coastal cities are swelling with refugees. Seventeen villages destroyed. My people speak of shadow creatures emerging from reality tears. They're afraid. They question whether?—"
"Whether their lord has lost his edge?" I finish, voice dropping to something colder. "Whether grief has made me weak? Whether obsessing over a Light Court wife who despises me means I can't defend my realm?" My mask slips for half a heartbeat—pain flashing across my features before I bury it under ice.
The silence that follows is delicious.
"Let me be absolutely clear." My shadows explode outward, filling the throne room until nothing exists but darkness and seven very small, very mortal lords. "I am grieving. I mourn my son. But I am still your lord. Still the Shadow who took this throne in blood. And I will defend these seven factions with every ounce of darkness I possess. The question is—will you stand with me, or do I need to make examples?"
The shadows snap back so fast Lord Kaya stumbles.
Elçin doesn't even flinch. She's dealt with worse than dramatic shadow displays in the Third Circle. I notice Lord Riza watching her, reassessing.
"Lord Taren thinks he can leverage villages against me," I continue pleasantly, as if I didn't just threaten mass murder. "Return to your factions. Prepare for war. Because whoever fed my father-in-law this strategy wants total destruction. And I take that personally."
"And Lady Nesilhan?" Lord Riza asks. "Surely she could speak with her father, negotiate?—"
"My wife stays here." The words come out harder than intended. "She's safer in this palace than anywhere in either realm. Because I will burn both worlds to ash before anyone takes her from me. Call it possessive, call it obsessive, call it whatever you like. I really don't care about your opinion on my marriage."
"A marriage she reportedly wants no part in," Riza says quietly. Too quietly. "Some say she's a prisoner. That you keep her against her will."
The throne room temperature drops twenty degrees.
"Careful, Riza," I say softly. "You're about five words away from becoming an object lesson."
"My lord, he speaks only what others whisper—" Lord Can tries to mediate.
"Then perhaps others should whisper more quietly. Or better yet, stop whispering and start preparing for the war that's literally burning through our territories as we speak."
"The Shadow Lord is right."
Every head turns.
Nesilhan stands in the doorway, backlit by corridor light like some avenging angel. She's wearing midnight blue—my colors—and her black hair is pulled back severe enough to hurt. Her eyes, those devastating golden eyes, are cold as winter.
The air leaves my lungs.
My shadows surge forward without permission, reaching for her like they've been starving —because they have been, becauseI have been. I yank them back with physical effort, but not before several lords notice. My hand grips the throne's armrest hard enough that midnight stone cracks under my fingers.
Four months since she's looked at me without hatred. Since she's spoken more than venom. And now she's here, wearing my colors, defending my decision, and something in my chest threatens to shatter completely.
Elçin's expression shifts minutely—recognition, concern, and something that might be protectiveness flashing across her features. She moves slightly, angling herself so she can reach Nesilhan quickly if needed. The gesture is subtle enough that most wouldn't notice, but I do. She's positioning herself to protect her cousin, even here, even now.
"Lady Nesilhan," Lord Riza bows. "We didn't expect?—"
"Clearly." She walks forward, and I'm reminded that my wife is not some delicate flower. She's Light Court nobility, trained in politics and power since birth. Her gaze finds Elçin briefly, and something passes between the cousins—acknowledgment, solidarity. "I heard Lord Riza questioning my husband's authority. Questioning his choice of military commanders. Shall I clarify the situation?"
The throne room could hear a pin drop.
"My brother betrayed me once," Nesilhan says, each word precisely cut. "He worked with those who wanted to destroy this marriage, who wanted to use me as a political pawn. He made terrible choices, and I have not forgiven him. I may never forgive him."
Zoran's face is carved from stone, but I see pain flicker in his eyes.
"However," Nesilhan continues, "Zoran stayed when he could have fled. He chose me over his entire former life. He stands in this throne room wearing Shadow Court colors, prepared to raise a blade against his own father." She turns toface Lord Riza directly. "So if you question his loyalty, Lord Riza, you question mine. And I assure you—I am not weak, not imprisoned, and not remotely interested in your opinion of my family."
It's the longest she's spoken to anyone in weeks. The most life I've seen in her eyes since that night in the dungeons when I chose her over our son.
And she's defending her brother. Not me. Not our marriage. But the decision I made—to trust Zoran despite everything.
