"She hasn't stood with you publicly since the attack."
"She just did. That's progress." I collapse into my throne, suddenly exhausted. The effort of maintaining control, of hiding how much her presence destroyed my carefully constructed walls, leaves me lifeless. "Small victories, Emir. That's all we get right now."
"And Elçin?"
"What about her?"
"She's staying close to Nesilhan. Protecting her."
"Good." I close my eyes. "My wife needs someone watching her back.”
"You trust her?"
I open my eyes, considering. "She's pragmatic. Loyal to family. And she understands that Nesilhan's safety benefitseveryone." I pause. "Besides, she gave excellent tactical advice earlier. Anyone who can think that clearly about how to destroy my kingdom is worth keeping close."
"And the war?"
"Will happen regardless. But at least now I have seven lords preparing for it, a brother-in-law who's desperate to prove himself, a warrior-cousin who knows how to survive impossible situations, and a wife who..." I pause. My shadows curl protectively around my legs, offering comfort they know I won't accept from anyone else. "Who hasn't completely given up. Even if she hates me."
"She doesn't hate you."
"She does. But underneath the hatred is something else. Something that survives despite everything." I close my eyes. "Draft the response to Taren. Make it clear war is his choice. But if he brings it, I'll show him why Shadow Lords are feared."
Emir nods and leaves.
I sit alone in my throne room, surrounded by onyx and darkness, ruler of seven factions. Somewhere in this palace, Nesilhan has already retreated back to her chambers with Elçin standing guard, back to her grief but perhaps not as alone as she was.
But for one moment, she stood in my throne room wearing my colors and defended my decision. For one moment, her eyes met mine without pure hatred burning in them. For one moment, the bond between us carried something other than rage.
It's not forgiveness.
But for a man who's been drowning in the depths of despair for too long, it's air.
And right now, one breath might be enough to survive what's coming.
CHAPTER 4
THE SEARCH FOR BANU
Nesilhan
I leavethe throne room with my hands still trembling from the confrontation.
Standing before the seven faction lords and defending Zoran's loyalty wasn't something I'd planned when Zoran and I rushed to the palace this morning. But when Lord Riza questioned whether my brother could be trusted to lead Shadow forces against his own father, when they suggested he was still a Light Court spy, something in my chest twisted tight.
"My brother betrayed me once," I'd said, 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."
The pain in Zoran's face had been visceral, but I'd continued.
"However, 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. So if you question his loyalty, Lord Riza, you question mine. And I assure you—I am not weak, notimprisoned, and not remotely interested in your opinion of my family."
The words had felt necessary. The seven lords needed to see that I supported Zoran's redemption, even if I haven't fully forgiven his betrayal.
Kaan's expression when I spoke had been unreadable. Not because I defended him—I hadn't—but because I'd stood in his throne room wearing his colors and defended a decision he'd made. To trust Zoran despite everything.
Now I walk through palace corridors trying to steady my breathing. Once again I've asked Elçin for some space, and she always gives it to me without question. It's a part of her I appreciate deeply. Right now I'm focused on ignoring how my light magic flickers beneath my skin in response to the emotional upheaval, sparking and fluttering like a candle in a storm I can't control.
I couldn’t face the war council earlier. I had tried, but even from the end of the corridor, I could hear raised voices from the war room—Kaan's deep baritone cutting through the others.
