The thought arrives with pleasant clarity as I watch Yasar lean across the war table, one elegant finger tracing the routethrough the Whispering Marshes while half my war council hangs on his every word like he's reciting prophecy instead of basic tactical theory.
"The issue," he says in that cultured voice that makes me want to shove shadows down his throat, "is that you're thinking like shadow warriors. Brutality. Overwhelming force. The Light Court expects that response."
Emir, who's been watching Yasar with the suspicious intensity of someone who spent a week failing to find answers, actually nods. "What do you suggest?"
Yasar's smile could charm serpents. "Meticulousness. The Light Court views shadow magic as crude—all that darkness and violence. They won't expect subtlety. A small strike force, moving through their blind spots..." He taps three locations on the map with unerring accuracy. "Here, here, and here. Cut their supply lines, and their grand army starves in a week."
It's brilliant. Of course it's brilliant. My cousin was always the strategic genius while I was busy perfecting creative applications of violence.
"Those positions," Zoran says slowly, studying the map with uncomfortable recognition in his eyes, "are classified. Light Court command posts that don't appear on any standard military map. Intelligence that's updated monthly."
Yasar's gaze glint with something between amusement and challenge. "I haven't spent all fifty years in my uncle's realm, Lord Zoran. The eastern territories have... connections. Trade routes that cross both courts. Information is just another commodity when you know where to look." His smile sharpens. "And I've always been exceptional at finding things people want to keep hidden."
Through my bond with Nesilhan—that constant awareness I've learned to hate and treasure in equal measure—I feel her attention sharpen. She's standing near the columns withElçin, maintaining the distance she's perfected over the past few months. But now her focus locks onto my cousin with an intensity that makes my shadows writhe beneath my skin.
Not curiosity. Not even suspicion.
Fascination.
My jaw clenches hard enough that my teeth might crack. The bond carries her emotions in waves I can't block: intrigue mixing with that unnatural pull she's been fighting since Yasar arrived. Her pulse kicks faster when he speaks, her skin flushes when his gaze slides her direction.
And I can't do a gods-damned thing about it without looking like a jealous monster.
Well. More of a jealous monster than usual.
"Impressive intelligence gathering," I say, my voice carrying just enough edge to make several council members shift uncomfortably. "One might wonder how you acquired such detailed knowledge of enemy positions."
Yasar turns that warm smile on me, and I want to flay him with shadows until he stops looking so perfectly composed. "I've always valued good information networks, cousin dearest. Unlike some people who prefer to intimidate answers out of their enemies with violence."
"My violent outbursts are very effective," I point out. "And significantly more entertaining than whatever tedious spy games you've been playing."
"Is it?" He gestures to the map where Light Court forces have been pushing steadily into our territory for weeks. "Because from where I'm standing, your entertaining violence hasn't stopped them from taking the Twilight Boundary."
The room goes silent. Even Zoran looks uncomfortable at the direct challenge.
My shadows expand across the floor, darkness eating the light from the shadow-orbs overhead. "Be very careful about finishing that thought."
"Or what?" Yasar's tone remains pleasant, conversational, as if he's not deliberately provoking the most dangerous predator in the room. "You'll demonstrate your violent tendencies on your family? How very on-brand for the Karanlikoglu bloodline." He pauses, then adds with false innocence, "Oh wait, I apologize. Lady Nesilhan made a rather pointed observation about family loyalty a few days ago. Perhaps I shouldn't assume violence is still your primary conflict resolution strategy."
I feel Nesilhan's spike of surprise through the bond—she didn't expect him to reference her insult. More intriguing, I feel something else beneath it: approval that he heard her, that he remembers.
The jealousy is a physical thing now, hot and toxic in my chest.
"Gentlemen." Elçin's voice silences the room.She steps forward, her storm-gray eyes flicking between us with the expression of someone watching children squabble over toys. "Perhaps we could focus on the war we're actually fighting rather than whatever family drama you're both enjoying too much?"
Yasar inclines his head with perfect courtesy. "Of course, Lady Elçin. Forgive me. I sometimes forget that not everyone finds psychological warfare as stimulating as physical combat."
"I find both stimulating," I say dryly. "I'm simply more efficient at the physical variety."
"Yes, we've all heard about your efficiency." Yasar's tone carries just enough edge to draw blood without breaking skin. His gaze drifts toward Nesilhan for the briefest moment - so quick it might be accidental, if one didn't know better. "Such dedication to your work cousin dearest. One wonders if you leave any energy for... other pursuits."
Several council members shift uncomfortably. Zoran's face darkens, his jaw tight.
Nesilhan's outrage flickers through the bond before she smooths her expression to ice. At least she's angry at him now instead of fascinated.
Small victories.
"If you're quite finished," Emir interrupts flatly, "perhaps Lord Yasar could elaborate on this proposed strike strategy?"
