Then it faded, and my father slumped back against the pillows, breathing hard. The display had cost him. But his eyes—his eyes were still burning.
"They circle like vultures," he said softly. "Thinking the lion is too weak to bite. Serkan. Cevdet. Perhaps even Mehmet, with his pious platitudes and his hungry eyes." That cold smile touched his lips—not the warm, fatherly expression I knew, but something older, harder. "They forget who made them. Who can unmake them just as easily."
There it was again. That glimpse of something beneath the golden surface. I thought of the cleansing ceremonies I had witnessed, the half-bloods screaming as light burned away parts of their essence. I thought of political rivals who had simply... vanished over the years. Of the way my father's smile never quite reached his eyes when he spoke of mercy.
I loved him. But I had never been blind to what he was.
"I will deal with Serkan," he continued, his voice regaining some of its old iron. "This illness will not prevent me from reminding the court who rules here. A few words in the right ears, a few truths revealed about where Serkan's own loyalties have wandered over the centuries..." He waved a hand dismissively. "He will be handled. They all will. Let them see that Gün Ata is not yet ready for the pyre."
"There is more," I said. "Hakan carries Erlik's blood. He is the son of the God of the Underworld. His mother kept it hidden for two hundred years, but now..."
I watched his face carefully. Watched for surprise that did not come.
"You already knew."
"I have watched that boy since he was a child, Ada. Since before your mother passed, when you two used to chase each other through the border forests thinking no one saw." He shifted against the pillows, and I caught the grimace he tried to hide—the flash of pain he did not want me to see. "I watched the shadow in him grow alongside the light. Why do you think I approved his courtship so easily? A nobody apprentice, asking to court my heir?" That cold smile again. "I wanted to see what would happen. Whether love could tame what lived in his blood. Whether you could be the chain that bound him to the light."
The words hit like a slap. "You used us. You used our love as an experiment."
"I gave you what you wanted." His voice hardened, then softened just as quickly—the shift so smooth I almost missed it. "I gave you happiness, Ada. Months of joy with a boy who worships you. Would you rather I had forbidden it? Watched you pineand rebel and make yourself miserable?" He reached for my hand, and despite everything, I let him take it. "I am your father. Everything I do, I do for you. Even the things you do not understand."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to rage at him for the manipulation, for treating our love like a piece on a game board. But he looked so tired. So diminished. And beneath the calculated words, I could hear something else—fear. Fear of leaving me alone in a world full of wolves.
"Does your blessing still stand?" I asked quietly. "Now that you know I know what he is?"
"We are not our bloodlines, little light. The boy is not his father any more than you are me." His grip tightened on my hand, and for a moment the mask slipped entirely. I saw exhaustion. I saw love. I saw a god who had ruled for three thousand years and was finally, impossibly, afraid. "My blessing stands. I will deal with Serkan and his decree—this illness will not stop me from protecting what is mine."
"He wants to marry me, Baba. Truly marry me. Not a political arrangement, but a real union."
"I know." That small smile again, warmer now. "Why do you think I have been so patient with both of you? Waiting for you to stop sneaking around and simply tell me what I already knew?"
Despite everything, I laughed. "We thought we were being so careful."
"You were about as subtle as a sunrise." He chuckled, then winced at the effort. "Go to him, Ada. Tell him that nothing has changed. My blessing stands. But warn him—the path ahead will not be easy. The darkness in him will call to darkness in others.There are those who will use your love as a weapon against you both."
"I know."
"No, you do not. Not yet." His eyes fixed on mine with sudden intensity. "You must be prepared to fight for each other. To protect each other from forces that would tear you apart. The council already positions themselves against you, and they will use any excuse—including your choice of husband—to deny you what is yours." He paused, his gaze growing distant. "And be wary of those who offer friendship too easily. Not everyone who smiles means you well."
"Then I will prove them wrong. All of them."
"Yes." Pride blazed in those tired eyes. "I believe you will." His hand released mine, falling back to the coverlet. "Now go. Find your shadow boy. Tell him that Gün Ata is counting on him to protect his daughter when I can no longer do so myself."
I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead. "I love you, Baba."
"And I you, my starlight." His eyes closed. "Now go. And come back to me when you can. I find I am not quite ready to face the eternal light alone."
The Border District felt wrong the moment I entered it.
The streets that normally bustled with the chaotic energy of the Boundary Quarter were nearly empty. Shuttered windows and locked doors presented a united front of wariness, and the few people I passed hurried along with their heads down, avoiding eye contact.
I quickened my pace toward Elif's apartment, my heart beating faster with each step.
The door was ajar.
I stopped, my hand raised to knock, cold dread settling in my stomach. Elif's door was never ajar. The woman guarded her home with the paranoia of someone who had spent two hundred years running from shadows. To leave it open was unthinkable.
Unless they had left in a hurry.
