The words landed like a slap. Because there was a splinter of truth in them — I had been so starved for basic decency that an evening of Sarp not being cruel had felt like sunlight after a long winter, and the fact that Hakan could see that, could identify the exact shape of my loneliness and use it against me —
"Ferit is going to be executed." I seized the anger before the hurt could swallow me. "You know that, don't you? You got what you wanted at the market, and now he's going to die for words you put in his mouth."
"Got proof of that?"
"I don't need proof. I know you."
"No." He drained his cup and tossed it aside. "You knew me. Past tense. You told me at the market that you hated me. I told you then — the feelings are mutual."
But that felt distant now — overshadowed by what had happened since. The corridor. His body caging mine against cold stone. His voice dropping to that register that scraped against something raw inside me while a girl screamed two floors below.
"And the corridor?" I said. "After Selim's class? Was that hatred too?"
Something shifted in his face. Quick, shuttered. "That was a mistake."
"You pinned me against a wall."
"You burned my face off." He gestured at the scar. "I'd say we're even."
"We are not even. You know what you said to me in that corridor."
"I said a lot of things. Doesn't mean any of it matters." He stepped closer. "What matters is you came here instead of staying with Sarp. You had wine and laughter and a man who was actually being decent to you, and you walked away from all of it to follow me into the dark." His gaze dropped to my mouth and my heart stammered. My light started dancing on my shoulders — it always happened when he was close, our magic bouncing off each other. "What does that tell you, starlight?"
"Don't call me that."
"Why? Does it remind you of before — when we were kids in the borderlands and you used to look at me like a lovesick fool? Before I ruined it?"
"You're drunk."
"Not drunk enough." His hand came up, hovering near my face without touching. Trembling slightly. "If I were drunk enough, I wouldn't care that you left him to come find me."
"You reckless, stupid —" My voice shook. "Do you have any idea what could have happened if you'd been caught? You risked everything for —"
"For what?" He leaned in, wine and something darker. "Say it, Ada."
"For petty revenge."
"Petty." His smile was vicious. "Maybe I just don't like competition. Can't have other people calling you a whore when I've been working so hard to earn the privilege myself."
I slapped him. My palm ignited with light magic — the same way it had in the corridor, my power reacting to my fury before I could leash it.
The crack echoed through the garden. His head barely turned. Something that looked like satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
"There she is," he said softly. "The girl who burns first and thinks later."
"Why are you so cruel? What did I ever do to you?"
"You existed. That's been enough." He backed me toward the tree, slow and deliberate, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "You don't even hate me properly. You keep trying to understand me instead. It's exhausting to watch." His gaze dropped to my mouth. "I know you're furious right now. I know your heart's racing. I know you left Sarp to come find me." Back up to my eyes. "What does that tell you?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't.
"Then go back to him." His voice dropped. "Go back to the fountain and the man who combed his hair for you. Let him court you properly. Let him buy you jasmine from the night market and be everything I'm not." A beat. His jaw worked. "Go back, Ada." His voice cracked on my name. "Go back to someone who won't destroy you."
"You risked everything?—"
"For you." He said it like a curse. Like something being torn out of him. "I risked everything because that drunk piece of shit called you a whore and I couldn't—" He stopped. Pressed his mouth together. "I couldn't let it stand."
"Why?" Too raw. Too desperate. I knew how I sounded and I couldn't stop. "Why do you care? You've spent years making it clear?—"
