Chapter 36
KIDNAPPING PLOT
Kaan
I can still feel the blood on my hands.
The memory of Taren's throat beneath my shadows, crushing his windpipe as his face turns purple. The vicious satisfaction as his eyes bulge with the realization that death has finally come for him. The way his body goes limp just before Solene's plea stops me.
My shadows writhe around me, agitated by the memory of violence interrupted. By rights, Lord Taren should be dead. The confirmation that he ordered the assassination of my son—our baby—should have been his death warrant. Would have been, if Solene hadn't stopped me with that desperate scream.
But we've been forced to return to the Shadow Court without his head. Political necessity. Fucking diplomacy. The Light Court would retaliate with full force if I murdered their lord at a peace negotiation, regardless of his crimes.
So here I am, restless in the throne room, my shadows lashing out occasionally to shatter whatever unfortunate object is within reach. The guards have wisely retreated to the far corners, and even Emir keeps a respectful distance.
"Bring me the generals," I growl, my voice still raw from shouting in that Light Court pavilion. "All of them. Now."
Emir nods and leaves without a word. Smart man. Centuries of friendship have taught him when not to speak.
I can't stop seeing it. The look on Taren's face when he admitted ordering the attack. The cold calculation in his eyes, like my son's life was nothing more than a chess piece to remove from the board. The way he looked at Nesilhan afterward, still believing he had the moral high ground somehow.
My shadows explode outward, shattering an ancient vase that had survived seventeen Shadow Lords before me. I can't find it in myself to care.
The memory of Nesilhan's face in that moment haunts me more than Taren's confession.
The devastation that washed over her features as she finally learned the truth—that her own father had ordered the death of our child.
The way she'd crumpled, as if someone had cut her strings.
The sound she'd made—not a scream, but something worse.
A broken, keening wail that I will hear in my nightmares for centuries.
And then, unexpectedly, the way she'd reached for my hand as we left through Solene's portal. Not looking at me. Not speaking. Just holding on like I was the only thing keeping her from drowning.
The doors open, and Emir strides in, his expression grim with determination. "The generals are assembling. The council chamber is ready."
"And Nesilhan?" I ask, unable to keep her name from my lips.
"Still in your chambers." Emir hesitates—unusual for him. "She hasn't spoken since you returned. Elcin is with her, but..." He trails off, clearly uncertain how to describe what he's witnessed.
I know what he's not saying. She's shattered. Hollowed out by a betrayal so profound it defies comprehension. Her own father murdered her child and let her destroy herself with misplaced guilt for months.
Something in my chest twists painfully. The bond is severed—the Fae Queen saw to that—but I don't need magic to feel connected to her grief. It mirrors my own too perfectly.
We reach the council chamber, and I pause for a moment, gathering myself. The rage still burns cold and deadly in my veins, but I need clarity now. Strategic thinking. Not blind fury, no matter how justified.
I push open the doors.
The scene that greets me is one of controlled chaos.
Generals and advisors cluster around a massive table where maps and documents are spread.
Zoran stands near the corner, studying troop movements with the intensity of a man trying to prove his worth through sheer competence.
Banu perches on the edge of the table—feet dangling, bare as always—her silver-streaked hair crackling with restless energy.
The room falls silent as I enter, all eyes turning to me. I feel the weight of their expectation, their fear, their determination. These are my people, looking to me for leadership in the face of war.
"Tell me everything," I command, moving to the head of the table. "No details spared. I want to know exactly what we're facing."
General Hakan steps forward, his weathered face set in grim lines. "Lord Taren has amassed forces along the western border. Approximately fifteen thousand troops, with more arriving daily. They're clearly preparing for a major offensive."
"When?" I ask, shadows coiling dangerously around my feet.
"Based on troop movements and supply lines, within three to five days," Hakan replies. "But there's something else. Scout reports suggest a smaller, elite force is being assembled separately—shadow-resistant mages, specialized for infiltration rather than open battle."
"A kidnapping attempt." Zoran's voice is quiet but certain, and all eyes turn to him. "Father mentioned wanting Nesilhan back under his 'protection.' He likely plans to take her by force, believing it will give him leverage."
The temperature in the room drops several degrees as my shadows flare in response. "Let him try."
"We need to be strategic about this," Emir cautions, his tone measured and calm—the voice of a man who's kept me from making catastrophic decisions for centuries. "If we can anticipate his move, we can turn it against him."
"Ooh, a trap!" Banu bounces on the table, her lavender eyes gleaming with mischief despite the gravity of the situation. "Make them think they're getting what they want, and then—" She slams a tiny fist into her palm with theatrical enthusiasm. "—surprise! The Shadow Court has teeth."
"We'd need to know when and where," General Hakan points out.
"The new moon," Zoran says with grim certainty. "Three days from now. Father always preferred operating during the new moon—maximum darkness for Light Court mages to maintain their power reserves while limiting shadow visibility."
"And the location?" I ask.
Zoran studies the maps, his finger tracing possible routes. "The eastern marshes. Reality is thinnest there, and it offers multiple escape routes back to Light Court territory. He'll send his elite team through there while the main army creates a distraction on the western front."
I study the maps, strategies forming and reforming in my mind. "Then we give him exactly what he expects. We let him think his plan is working, and we prepare a greeting he'll never forget."
"We'd need overwhelming force hidden in the marshes," Emir observes. "And Nesilhan would have to be visible enough to draw them in."
"She won't like being used as bait," I say, though I already know what her response will be. Nesilhan has never been one to hide when there's a battle to be fought.
"Then it's fortunate that I don't need anyone's permission to defend my home."
I turn to find Nesilhan standing in the doorway, Elcin at her side.
She looks like death walking.
Her golden eyes are red-rimmed, her face pale and drawn.
She's changed into Shadow Court blacks—the first time she's worn our colors since we lost our son—but the fabric hangs on her like she's forgotten how to fill it.
Her hands tremble slightly at her sides, and I can see the effort it's taking her to remain upright.
But beneath the devastation, something new burns in her expression. Something hard and cold and utterly merciless.
Rage.
"I told you to rest," I say quietly.
"Rest." She laughs—a soulless, terrible sound.
"My father murdered my baby and let me believe it was my fault.
You think I can rest?" Her voice cracks on the last word, grief bleeding through the fury, but she doesn't break.
She takes a breath, steadies herself, and continues.
"My father wants to kidnap me? Let him try.
But he'll find I'm not the obedient daughter he remembers. "
Elcin moves to stand beside her. Her hand rests casually on her sword hilt.
"The attack should come from three sides," Zoran suggests, redirecting focus to the maps. "Shadow warriors from the north, Fae forces from the east, and a smaller elite force from the west to cut off retreat."
"We'd need to move immediately," General Hakan points out. "Before dawn, to be in position by first light."
"It's risky," Emir cautions. "If they realize it's a trap, or if they have forces we don't know about..."
"Then we adjust," I say firmly. "But we take this opportunity. Lord Taren declared war by ordering my son's death. Now he'll learn what that really means."
The room fills with murmurs of agreement, plans being formulated, troops being assigned. I move to where Nesilhan stands with Elcin, maintaining enough proximity to make it clear we're united in this.
"I don't like using you as bait," I tell her quietly. "If anything goes wrong—"
"It won't," she interrupts, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
"Because you'll be there. We both will be.
" She meets my eyes, and I see something shift in her expression—not forgiveness, not absolution, but a fierce, terrible determination.
"And my father is going to learn that I'm not his daughter anymore—I'm the Lady of the Shadow Court, and I protect what's mine. "
"Clear the room," I order once the basic plan is established. "Everyone except Emir, Banu, Zoran, and Elcin."
When only the six of us remain, I allow my political mask to drop. My shadows surge outward, filling the chamber with freezing darkness that makes candles gutter and stones groan.
"Before we face Taren, there's something else we need to address." I look at Banu and Elcin. "Yasar. Where is he?"
Banu's playful expression vanishes, replaced by something grimmer. "Gone. Vanished the same day you left for the Light Court." Her lavender eyes flicker with uncharacteristic seriousness. "No one's seen him since. Not his servants, not his contacts. His rooms look like he left in a hurry."
"Smart of him," I say, my voice cold. "I was about two seconds away from tearing him apart, cousin or not."