THE VICTORY BALL
Nesilhan
I stand before the mirror,studying the woman who stares back. The months of war and grief have left their marks, but tonight, wrapped in shadow-silk and starlight, I see something I haven't seen in a long time—not just a survivor, but someone learning to live again. The gown Elçin chose falls in liquid darkness around my body—not mourning black, but the deep twilight blue of shadows at dusk, embroidered with thousands of tiny crystals that catch the light with every breath I take.
The fabric whispers against my skin like secrets—cool at first touch, then warming to my body's temperature until it feels like a second skin.
My chambers feel different tonight. For months after we lost our son, this room was a tomb. But slowly, painfully, Kaan and I have rebuilt what was shattered between us. His presence lingers here now—the faint scent of cedar and shadow, a book left open on the nightstand, the warmth of shared grief that has somehow become shared healing.
"Hold still," Elçin murmurs, her deft fingers weaving strands of my hair into an elaborate crown. "You're fidgeting like a child."
"Celebrating feels strange," I whisper, watching my reflection's lips form the words. "After everything we've lost."
Elçin meets my eyes in the mirror. Her hands pause in their work, warm against my scalp. "This isn't just about celebration. It's about showing strength to our enemies. The Shadow Court survived war and betrayal. Tonight, we prove we're still standing."
"Is that why you dressed me like a constellation?" I gesture at the gown, at the diamonds now woven through my hair. "To show strength?"
"I dressed you like what you are." She secures the last strand and steps back to admire her work. "Twilight incarnate. Neither shadow nor light, but something more powerful than both."
Her confidence in me has never wavered, even when my own has shattered time and again.
"You look tired," I observe, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes. "Have you been sleeping at all?"
"Sleep is for those who don't have wounded soldiers filling every available bed in the healing wing." She shrugs, the gesture dismissing her own exhaustion. "Most of the healers were lost when the eastern wing collapsed. We're doing what we can with what we have."
Standing, I smooth my hands down the front of my gown one last time, feeling the slight weight of the concealed dagger strapped to my thigh. Even at a celebration, even in the heart of the Shadow Court where I am safe, I no longer go anywhere unarmed. Some lessons, once learned, cannot be unlearned.
"Ready?" Elçin asks, offering her arm.
I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs completely before releasing it slowly. "As I'll ever be."
The corridorsof the Shadow Palace tell the story of war.
Elçin and I make our way through passages that were once pristine ebony and silver, now scarred by battle. Cracks spiderweb across walls where magical blasts struck home. Tapestries that survived a thousand years hang in tatters, their ancient stories torn apart by fire and blade. In places, the ceiling has collapsed entirely, blocked off by hastily erected barriers of shadow-forged steel.
We pass what used to be the Gallery of Ancestors—now open to the night sky, its roof torn away by Light Court siege magic. Moonlight pours through the devastation, illuminating rubble where portraits of Shadow Lords past once hung. A few frames remain on the walls, their canvases slashed or burned beyond recognition.
"The eastern wing is still impassable," Elçin says quietly, noting the direction of my gaze. "Engineers say it will take months to clear the debris. Years to rebuild."
I nod, swallowing hard. The eastern wing held the children's quarters. The nursery that was being prepared for our son. Now it's nothing but crushed stone, a tomb for futures that will never be.
Guards stand at attention as we pass, their armor still bearing the dents and scratches of recent combat. There haven't been enough resources to replace damaged equipment—everything has gone toward fortifying what remains of the palace and tending to the wounded. These men and women bow as we approach, their eyes respectful. Some of them fought beside me at Kan Vadisi. Some of them watched their friends die.
We turn a corner, and the destruction gives way to something almost miraculous.
The contrast is jarring—walking from rubble-strewn corridors into hallways that gleam with polished onyx, their silver inlays catching the light of freshly lit shadow-orbs. Servants have worked tirelessly to restore this section to its former glory, or something close to it. Crystal vases hold flowers that must have been transported from the southern territories at considerable expense. The air smells of incense rather than smoke and dust.
As we approach the grand staircase that leads down to the ballroom, the murmur of voices and strains of music drift upward. I hesitate at the top of the stairs, suddenly aware of how visible I will be, descending in this gown that catches every scrap of light.
"I'll be right beside you," Elçin promises, reading my apprehension.
"No," I decide, squeezing her hand. "Go ahead. Find Banu. Make sure she's not overdoing things with that wound still healing. I'll follow in a moment."
She hesitates, searching my face. "You're sure?"
"I need a moment." I offer a smile that comes easier now than it once did. "Just a moment to prepare."
After a final evaluating look, Elçin nods and descends the stairs, she disappears into the crowd below. I watch her go, then step back into the shadows of the upper corridor, gathering myself.
