Chapter Nine #2
The garden path ends at a high stone wall—the boundary of the palace grounds. Beyond it lies the forest where Aslan died. Where I lost everything .
I glance back toward the guards, gauging their distance.
They've positioned themselves where they can see me clearly, but are too far away to hear normal conversation.
I approach the wall, analyzing its height—at least twelve feet high, with a mostly smooth surface.
A normal person would find it impossible to scale.
But I am not normal. I am a trained assassin of the Light Court.
I back up several paces, preparing to make my leap, gathering the light blue silk of my dress and tucking it into my undergarments to free my legs. I take a deep breath, ready to run toward the wall.
"Nesi, stop!" A tiny voice cuts through the garden's silence. "Not here. Too much magical surveillance watching."
I freeze, recognizing the voice immediately. "Banu?"
A faint shimmer appears near a flowering bush to my right, though I can barely make out her form.
"Not here," the voice hisses urgently. "The shadow magic here has eyes of its own, beyond just the guards. Go back to your chambers. I'll meet you there, the wards are different in personal spaces."
I hesitate, glancing longingly at the wall, my temporary escape so close.
But then a flicker of joy rushes through me at the sound of Banu's voice.
My best friend is here! Even in this prison of shadows, I'm not completely alone.
I smooth my dress back into place and turn toward the palace, my steps quickening with anticipation rather than resignation.
"I'll be waiting," I whisper, my voice barely audible even to myself. I understand her caution, a fae creature from the Forgotten Grove discovered in the Shadow Lord's palace would face a fate worse than death.
The shimmer vanishes, and I make my way back through the gardens, past the guards who seem relieved at my return. I navigate the corridors back to my chambers, my mind racing with questions about what could be so urgent that Banu would risk coming this close to the Shadow Court palace.
When I reach my rooms, they are mercifully empty.
I check every corner to ensure I'm truly alone, then secure the door with the heavy wooden bar, a precaution I'm grateful exists, even if it can only be operated from within.
I need this moment of privacy—this small sanctuary—if only for a short while.
"Banu?" I whisper. "Are you here?"
The air shimmers near the window, and a small glowing figure materializes.
"Well, look at you," she says, fluttering closer with an exaggerated inspection of my light blue gown. "Already dressing the part of Shadow Lady? Next thing I know, you'll be growing tentacles and hissing at sunlight."
Despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips, though it feels fragile after everything I've endured.
Banu's barely five feet tall, a fact that irritates her endlessly.
Her wild silver-blonde hair changes color with her moods, now streaked with mournful blue despite her teasing tone.
Her eyes, larger than human proportion would allow, are the pale lavender of twilight.
A subtle shimmer surrounds her—not quite wings, but a faint aura of magical energy that distorts the air when she moves.
"You try refusing their clothes when yours are burned in a magical bonding ceremony," I retort, though my voice lacks its usual strength.
"Hmm, fashion by intimidation. Not their worst crime, but still on the list." Her light dims slightly as she circles me, her expression growing more serious. "All jokes aside, you look like absolute hell, Nesi."
"Thank you. Just what every girl wants to hear."
"You know what I mean." She moves closer, her light pulsing with concern as she reaches out a hand to brush my cheek.
"I felt the disturbance in the boundary magic yesterday—a massive surge of shadow and light intertwining.
I tried to come immediately, but the palace wards were too strong.
I had to wait for them to settle before I could slip through. "
The gentle touch and her explanation break something in me. My carefully constructed walls begin to crumble. "Aslan is dead," I tell her, the words like ash in my mouth. "Kaan killed him. Tore him apart with shadow magic. And now I'm—"
"Bonded to the bastard," Banu finishes, her face grim despite her crude language.
"I can see it on you, shadow and light intertwined, pulsing with new magic.
" She flies around me, examining the invisible threads of the bond with eyes that see beyond the physical.
"Sweet merciful moonlight, Nesi. What did they do to you? "
"They didn't tell me anything," I admit, sinking onto the edge of the bed and letting my composure crack slightly. "Not about the bond, not about what it would mean. My father sent me here like a lamb to slaughter."
Banu's light flares angry red. "Typical Light Court nonsense.
All that talk of honor and wisdom, and they send their brightest flame into shadow without so much as a warning.
" She sits beside me on the bed, her features contorted with rage before softening.
"But I'm here now. And I'm going to help you figure this out, even if I have to turn the Shadow Boy into a particularly ugly toad to do it. "
The absurd image—Kaan with bulging eyes and warty skin—startles a laugh from me, though it sounds hollow. "Can you actually do that?"
"Probably not," she admits with a dismissive wave. "But I'd give it my best shot. The amount of magic it would take would probably turn my hair permanently green, but for you? Worth it."
I shake my head, grateful for her presence despite the circumstances. "How did you even get in here? The Shadow Court has wards against fae magic."
Banu scoffs, tossing her color-shifting hair over her shoulder.
"Please. Those wards were set by amateurs who think all fae are the same.
It's like trying to catch a shark with a butterfly net.
" She flicks her wrist, and a small shower of silver sparks erupts from her fingers.
"Besides, I'm not just any fae. I'm me. And I may have. .. anticipated this situation."
"What do you mean?" I ask, sensing there's more to her sudden appearance.
She looks almost embarrassed, which is rare for Banu.
"I've been monitoring the shadow court for months, Nesi.
Ever since your father started making those political moves, I had a feeling something like this might happen, so I've been preparing.
" She reaches into a pouch at her side and produces a tiny vial that glows with silvery-blue light.
"Essence of boundroot, mixed with tears of the twilight moth.
It will temporarily block the emotional connection of the bond—not completely, but enough to give you privacy in your own mind. "
I eye the vial with a mixture of hope and suspicion. "You had this ready?"
"I may be flighty, but I'm not stupid," she says with unusual seriousness. "Blood bonds are ancient magic, and they're dangerous. I've been studying them ever since I sensed the political winds shifting. This potion is the only thing I know that can help—at least temporarily."
"What aren't you telling me, Banu?" I ask, recognizing the look in her eyes.
She sighs dramatically, perching on the edge of my bed.
"The potion has... side effects. Because nothing worth having comes without a price tag, obviously.
" She examines her nails. "The magic works by creating a barrier around your emotional center, but magical barriers are never perfect.
To block the flow of your feelings to him, it has to redirect that energy somewhere—which means you'll feel his emotions more strongly.
Think of it like plugging a drain—the water has to go somewhere. "
"I don't care," I say immediately. "Anything is better than him feeling my hatred, my plans."
"There's more," she continues, unusually somber.
"Extended use can blur the boundaries between your minds.
The potion doesn't just block—it creates a kind of magical feedback loop.
After two cycles, you might struggle to distinguish his thoughts from your own.
Some who've used it began to adopt the very traits they despised in their bonded.
Imagine that—you becoming a mini-Kaan. Delightful prospect. "
The warning sends a chill through me, but I push it aside. "Can you make more?"
She nods. "Of course I can… But Nesi—" she approaches, her expression uncharacteristically serious, "—you can only take it this once.
After that, the effects become unpredictable.
Dangerous. And I don't mean 'oops my hair turned blue' dangerous.
I mean, 'who am I and why am I suddenly fond of shadow magic' dangerous. "
"So I have thirty days to figure out another solution," I say, calculating quickly. "Or to find a way to kill him that won't kill me, too."
Banu glances nervously at my chamber door. "Speaking of which, we should probably wrap this up before Shadow Boy comes looking for his bride. The longer I stay, the more likely the palace's deeper wards will notice me."
"The potion," I say, holding out my hand.
Banu places the tiny vial in my palm with a flourish. "Drink it all," she instructs. "The effects will begin immediately. Try not to make that scrunched-up face you do when something tastes bad— it's unbecoming."
I uncork the vial, hesitating only briefly. "You're sure this won't harm me?"
"It won't harm your body," Banu says, dropping her sarcastic tone for a moment.
"But his presence in your mind... it can be overwhelming.
The potion essentially makes you a magical sponge for his emotions while protecting your own.
Some find themselves influenced by their bonded's thoughts, adopting their perspectives without realizing it.
Be careful, Nesi. Don't lose yourself while trying to hide from him.
" Then, unable to maintain seriousness for long, she adds, "I'd hate to have to train a new human friend. The learning curve is exhausting."
Without further hesitation, I tip the vial to my lips and swallow its contents.
The effect is immediate and shocking. Fire spreads from my throat to my chest, then outward along my limbs. For a terrifying moment, I can't breathe, can't think, can't feel anything but the burning.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the sensation vanishes, and with it, the openness of the bond.
My grief for Aslan, my hatred for Kaan, my fear and determination, all remain vivid within me, but I can feel a barrier forming, shielding these emotions from flowing through the bond to him.
Simultaneously, I become acutely aware of a foreign presence in my mind—distant for now, but unmistakably Kaan's consciousness, hovering at the edges of my awareness like a storm on the horizon.
"It worked," I breathe, feeling the strange duality of privacy and invasion.
"For now," Banu says, her typical flippancy subdued.
"But, Nesi, be careful. The potion shields him from your thoughts, but it leaves you more vulnerable to his.
The stronger his emotions, the more you'll feel them.
Don't let his mind influence yours. I rather like you as you are—annoyingly noble and all. "
I nod, though her warning seems distant and unimportant through the new filter of calm that settles over me—a side effect, I realize, of the magical barrier.
Banu moves to the window. "Two weeks," she reminds me. "And, Nesi—" she turns back, her light dimming slightly, "—I'm sorry about Aslan. He deserved better than to be caught in this mess."
The grief surges at his name, raw and undiminished, but I take comfort in knowing that Kaan can no longer sense it through our bond. "Yes," I agree, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "He did."
As Banu slips out through the window, her silver light fading into the light, I move to my dressing table, composing myself. For the first time since Kaan claimed me, my mind feels like my own again—separate, protected, shielded from his awareness.
A knock at my chamber door makes me jump. When I open it, I find a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair cut close to his head, wearing the uniform of Kaan's personal guard. The silver insignia on his shoulder marks him as someone of rank.
When he sees me, he stands straighter, his posture shifting from casual to formal. But it's his eyes that stop me in my tracks—a particular shade of amber, so familiar it makes my heart stutter. Not identical to Aslan's, but close enough to be his brother's or cousin's.
"Lady Nesilhan," he says, bowing slightly. "I am Damir, assigned to your personal guard by Lord Kaan himself, I just wanted to make a brief introduction."
I can only stare, fighting the surge of hope and pain that threatens to overwhelm me. The way he looks at me, that slight tilt of his head, the almost imperceptible softening around his eyes—reminds me painfully of someone I've lost.
"You... you remind me of someone," I manage to say, my voice barely steady.
For a heartbeat, his composure cracks. Pain flashes across his features, raw and familiar, before the mask slides back into place. "Loss has a way of marking us all, my lady," he says, his voice rougher now. "Some marks run deeper than others."
I want to ask what he means, want to demand answers to questions I can barely form, but he's already stepping back and walking away like he can’t speak anymore words.