Through an arched window—one of the few in this section still fitted with glass—I can see the capital city spread out below the palace. A sea of lights glitters in the darkness, torches and lanterns burning in celebration of our victory at Kan Vadisi. But even from here, I can see the gaps where buildings once stood,the dark patches where entire neighborhoods were reduced to ash by Light Court bombardment.
We won. But the cost...
Music swells from below, pulling me back to the present moment. I cannot hide in the shadows all night. So I step forward, into the pool of light at the top of the grand staircase, and begin my descent into the ballroom.
Conversations pause as I make my way through the crowd. Heads turn, but the whispers that follow are different now—not the uncertain murmurs of courtiers assessing a broken queen, but the respectful acknowledgment of a woman who has endured and emerged standing.
I sense Kaan's attention like sunlight on my skin. His gaze is filled with pride, fierce protective love that still takes my breath away as he approaches me.
"You look stunning."
His shadows reach for me with familiar hunger before he reins them back, mindful of the public setting.
"You look rather dashing yourself." I smile.
He's dressed in formal battle attire—not armor, but something close to it. Black fabric embroidered with silver thread that catches the candlelight. In this light, with shadows clinging to his skin like living things, he looks like what he truly is: beautiful and terrible and mine.
He moves beside me, close enough that his shadows brush against my gown, eager for contact even when propriety demands distance. I watch the way they curl toward the shadow-silk of my dress, drawn to it—drawn to me—with an intensity that needs no magical bond to explain. The loss of that connection still aches sometimes, a phantom limb of the soul. But what we have now, we built ourselves. And there is something fiercer in that.
"Elçin's design," I say, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my skirts. "She insisted we show strength tonight."
"You've never lacked for strength." His voice carries an edge of pride that makes something inside me ache. "Even when you were breaking. Even when I was too lost in my own grief to see what you needed—you never broke."
I turn to face him fully. "We both nearly did. But we found our way back."
"Yes." His eyes hold mine, and in them I see everything we've survived—the loss, the rage, the silence that stretched between us when words became weapons. The love that refused to die despite it all. "We did."
The music shifts, something slower and more haunting filling the air. Around us, couples move onto the dance floor, bodies pressing close in the intimate ritual of court dance.
Kaan extends his hand, his gaze never leaving mine. "Dance with me, hatun."
The endearment wraps around my heart. I place my hand in his without hesitation, and his fingers close around mine with possessive gentleness.
"Always."
He leads me onto the floor with the ease of a man who has commanded armies, though I suspect dancing terrifies him more than battle ever could. His shadows swirl around us as we move, creating a subtle barrier between us and the other dancers—less for privacy, I think, than because they're shameless and want me to themselves.
"Your shadows are being possessive again," I murmur.
"They learned it from me."
I laugh—actually laugh, the sound startling in the formal setting. A few courtiers glance our way with expressions of barely concealed shock. The Shadow Lady, laughing. At something the Shadow Lord said. Surely the world is ending.
Let them wonder.
When the dance ends, Kaan lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles that lingers a moment longer than propriety allows. "Go rescue your sister," he says quietly, tilting his head toward the refreshment tables. "She's been cornered by Lord Vasir, and I believe she's plotting his murder."
I follow his gaze and find Solene near the refreshment tables, her light-gold hair marking her as obviously foreign among so much darkness. Two Shadow Court nobles have engaged her in conversation—Lord Vasir chief among them—and while my sister's smile is perfectly polite, I can read the tension in her shoulders. The subtle way her fingers are twitching.
"If she kills a noble at our celebration, it'll cause a political incident," I say.
"Worse. It'll interrupt the feast." Kaan releases my hand with obvious reluctance.
I cross the ballroom toward Solene, and as I approach, Lord Vasir suddenly remembers urgent business elsewhere. Remarkable how that happens.
"You look beautiful," Solene says, genuine affection warming her voice. Then, lower: "And terrifying. I think half the court is afraid of you."
"Only half?" I raise an eyebrow. "I'm losing my touch."
