"It's the only chance she has. The only chance we have is to bring her home."
"At what cost?" Elçin moves closer, her warrior's grace making no sound on the marble floor. "Entering the Veil requires an anchor. Someone to tether you to reality. If you can't find that person?—"
"Then I go alone and probably die trying." The words come out flat, matter-of-fact. "Better than doing nothing while Banu suffers in a place designed to consume her."
"Nesilhan—"
"Don't." I hold up a hand, cutting off whatever protest she's preparing. "Don't tell me it's not my fault. Don't remind me that I couldn't have known the shapeshifter would attack. I'm tired of absolution I don't deserve." My voice cracks despite my best efforts.
"Banu is there because of me. Because I was too blind to see the deception, too weak to protect her. So yes, I'm going into the Veil. But I need an anchor and I already know who that will be.”
Kaan. It has to be Kaan. I need to try and repair what we lost.
Elçin studies me for a long moment. Then, impossibly, she smiles—small and sad but genuine. "You sound like Kaan when he's being particularly stubborn and self-destructive."
"Careful," I warn. "That's the worst insult you could possibly deliver."
"Is it?" She crosses her arms, leaning against the wall with deceptive casualness. "Because from where I'm standing, you're both brilliant, broken creatures who'd rather die than admit you need help."
I start to get dressed. Elçin turns around to give me privacy.
“I’m going to fix that. I’m going to cook him a meal.”
When I turn, Elçin is smiling. “You mean you are going to actually cook?”
“Well, I will give instructions on what to cook to the staff.”
Elçin laughs but it’s soft. “Just as thoughtful.”
I lightthe last candle and step back, surveying the table like it’s a fragile altar that might collapse if I so much as breathe wrong.
The room looks… intentional.
Warm. Gold-tinted.
The long dining table is bare except for two plates, polished cutlery, and an unopened bottle of deep-red wine positioned between our seats. Soft amber light pours from sconces along the walls, catching the carved shadows on the ceiling. The drapes are drawn, keeping the world out—and maybe, if the gods show mercy, keeping us in.
I chose my dress carefully. Dark green silk that falls off my shoulders, fitted at the waist, loose at the skirt. Slightly daring for a dinner that might end in disaster, but then again, everything about tonight is daring.
My palms are damp. My heart beats too hard.
This was my idea. My plan to repair what has splintered between Kaan and me.
To save Banu. To break the binding between me and Yasar before it suffocates us all.
I smooth my skirt one more time when the door opens.
Kaan steps inside.
And for a moment, I can’t breathe.
He’s dressed simply—black trousers, black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. It’s understated, but somehow that makes him look even more dangerous: like a man who doesn’t need embellishment to dominate a room. His hair is slightly damp, as if he washed up before coming here. His jaw is shadowed with stubble. His eyes… gods.
Suspicion sharpens every line of him.
His gaze skims the table, the candles, the wine, and finally lands on me.
“…Dinner?” he asks, voice low and cautious.
