Emir rests a hand on my shoulder, startling me with the rare display of comfort. "You're not alone in this, Nesilhan. Kaan may be lost in his own pain right now, but you have other allies. Other people who care for you, who will help you find a way to break the binding." His lips quirk. "You even have me."
A sound escapes me, half-laugh, half-sob. "I suppose I should be grateful for that."
"You should." Emir removes his hand, expression sobering. "We'll figure this out. In the meantime, the council needs me. The Light Court presses our borders. Villages burn.”
“Thank you Emir.” I whisper.
He nods and then he's gone, leaving me alone with ancient secrets and the sour taste of regret.
I glance once more at the passage describing the Twilight Convergence. Perfect harmony and absolute trust. Impossible things, now.
Unless... I swallow hard. Unless I find another shadow wielder. Someone I can trust. Someone whose magic could balance mine.
The thought feels like betrayal. Worse, it feels like giving up on my marriage, on Kaan. On the love I once believed could survive anything.
But if the alternative is this binding slowly consuming me? Turning me into a puppet dancing on Yasar's strings?
I may not have a choice.
I roll up the scroll with trembling fingers and tuck it into my robes.
I'll break this binding. Somehow. Someday.
I just pray the cost isn't everything I have left.
The walk back to my chambers feels endless. Servants bow as I pass, their eyes carefully averted from my face. Guards stationed at every corner snap to attention.
Kaan stands outside my door.
He looks terrible—shadows pooling beneath red-rimmed eyes, jaw shadowed with days-old stubble, shoulders hunched like a man carrying mountains. When he sees me, something in his expression cracks. He stills wears marks on his perfect face from the fight with Yasar. He could have easily had the healers work on them, but clearly he chose not to.
"Nesilhan—"
"No." I keep walking, forcing my feet to move past him toward the door. "Whatever you want to say, I don't want to hear it."
"No." His hand catches my wrist—not gentle, but firm. Unyielding. "You need to eat. You need to sleep. I can't win a war while worrying whether my wife is starving herself to death in a library." His voice comes out clipped, sharp-edged.
His fingers are warm against my wrist, solid and familiar in a way that makes my chest ache. I notice the calluses on his thumb, the gentle pressure that says he's holding on but won't force me to stay. The touch feels good—too good—and I hate myself for noticing.
I pull my hand away sharply. "I've been researching in the Obsidian Archive. I found information about the Sundering Ritual—the original magic that split the realm 1500 years ago." I force myself to meet his eyes, to keep my voice steady. "There are three ways to break soul-bindings. Death with magical backlash,a stronger binding, or the Twilight Convergence. It requires perfect harmony between light and shadow wielders who trust each other absolutely," I repeat.
Kaan's face shifts, something like determination hardening his features. "Then we'll find a way to get there. To rebuild what's broken between us."
"Kaan—"
"No, listen." He steps closer but doesn't touch me again. "I know what I did. I know what it cost us—cost you. But I also know that we've survived worse than this. We've faced demons and prophecies and an entire realm trying to tear us apart. We can survive this too. We can learn to trust each other again."
The conviction in his voice almost makes me believe him. Almost. But then I remember the blood, the choice, the emptiness where our child should be. Trust doesn't rebuild itself on hope alone.
Still, something in my chest loosens. Not forgiveness—not yet, maybe not ever—but something softer than the rage I've been carrying. Perhaps not today, perhaps not for months, but the possibility exists. A thin thread of maybe.
"I hope so," I say quietly, and slip through my chamber door before he can see the tears threatening to fall.
Only when I'm alone do I let myself collapse. My back slides down the door until I'm sitting on cold stone, the scroll about the Sundering Ritual clutched against my chest like it might protect me from the truth.
Kaan believes we can rebuild trust. Believes we can perform the Twilight Convergence together and break this binding. His conviction had been absolute, unshakeable.
I want to believe him. Gods, I want to believe him so badly it hurts.
