"Your shadows are making very suggestive shapes."
I looked down. My shadows had formed what could only be described as extremely inappropriate imagery around us both.
"Traitors," I muttered, dispersing them with a thought.
"Come on." Ada sat up, grinning. "We should get dressed before Kaan sends someone to drag us to breakfast. You know he would."
She wasn't wrong. I'd learned within minutes of meeting my brother that he had absolutely zero respect for privacy when he wanted something.
We dressed — Ada in a gown Nesilhan had left for her, me in black as always — and found the breakfast room by following the sound of voices and laughter.
Sarp was already deep in conversation with Banu, who was perched cross-legged on her chair eating olives directly from the bowl with her fingers.
"—which is why fairies invented wine, and everyone else just borrowed the concept," she was saying, her translucent wings casting prismatic patterns across the table.
"That's not how wine works," Sarp protested, though he was grinning.
"Says the light-wielder who's never even tried to ferment grapes. You wouldn't last a day in the Forgotten Grove. Our revels would break you."
"I'm very difficult to break."
Banu's lavender eyes gleamed. "Is that a promise or a challenge? Because I accept both."
Sarp opened his mouth, closed it, and reached for his tea. Outmatched, and he knew it.
Kaan sat at the head of the table with Nesilhan beside him, both looking relaxed. Emir was seated at Kaan's left, methodically buttering a piece of bread with the same precision he probably applied to military strategy. A servant moved quietly between them, refilling tea glasses.
"Ah, the lovebirds!" Kaan grinned. "We were starting to think you'd sleep until noon."
I felt Ada's embarrassment through the bond as we sat, though I felt none myself. My brother's humor was starting to grow on me.
The table was covered with food — fresh bread still warm from the ovens, soft white cheese, olives glistening with oil, thick cream, honey in crystalline jars, tomatoes and cucumbers sliced thin, spiced sausages that smelled of unfamiliar herbs, jam made from fruits I didn't recognize. Tea steamed in delicate glasses, and Kaan had a small cup of thick, dark liquid that smelled like it could strip paint from walls.
"This is kahve," Kaan said, offering his cup. "Very bitter, very strong. Want to try?"
I took a sip and immediately regretted it.
"Gods, what is this?"
"Suffering in liquid form," Sarp said cheerfully. "I had three cups."
"Why?"
"Builds character."
Kaan gestured to the tea. "Stick with that. My wife keeps trying to civilise me with it."
"I've given up on civilising you," Nesilhan said. "I'm just trying to prevent you from offending every visiting dignitary."
"I only offend the ones who deserve it."
"That's everyone."
"See? Efficiency."
Banu leaned across the table toward Ada and me, her lavender eyes enormous with mischief. "So. I've been thinking about last night. About your bond. About themechanicsof your bond."
"Banu," Nesilhan and Emir said in unison, with the synchronised weariness of people who had been doing this for centuries.
