Chapter Seventeen
Blindfolded Surrender
Nesilhan
I SLAM THE door to my chambers hard enough to rattle the hinges, my whole body trembling with fury. After weeks of marriage, I thought I was beginning to understand him, but the memory of Kaan's face, the shock, the horror when he'd whispered that name, burns in my mind like a brand.
Isil.
Who is she? The question beats against my skull with each frantic heartbeat.
I pace the perimeter of my room like a caged animal, light magic crackling at my fingertips in dangerous little sparks.
The golden energy reflects off the polished marble walls, casting erratic shadows that dance with my agitation.
This shouldn't matter. He's my captor, my political burden, nothing more. Yet the way her name fell from his lips in that moment of intimacy—reverent, pained, loving—sends something sharp and unwelcome twisting through my chest.
"Someone's in a mood," an amused voice observes from the window seat.
I whirl to find Banu lounging comfortably among the silk cushions, her silver-blonde hair shifting through a rainbow of curious colors as she studies me. Her wings flutter slightly as she tilts her head, somehow managing to command the entire window seat despite her petite frame.
"Not now, Banu," I snap, resuming my pacing. The light magic pulses brighter with my frustration, and I consciously rein it in before I accidentally set something ablaze.
"Oh, but I think precisely now," she counters, floating upward to block my path with surprising grace. "Especially after what I just witnessed in the study. My, my, my—who knew the big bad shadow boy could be so easily rattled by a single name?"
I freeze mid-step. "You were watching?"
"Of course I was watching!" She rolls her eyes dramatically, executing a lazy spiral in the air.
"What kind of fairy confidante would I be if I missed the juiciest parts?
And that was definitely juicy—right up until it wasn't." She makes an explosive gesture with her hands.
"Boom! Total meltdown. Rather impressive, actually. "
Heat floods my face, shame and anger warring for dominance. "It wasn't…we weren't…"
"Oh, please." Banu circles me, her iridescent wings catching the lamplight as she hovers effortlessly. "You were bent over his desk with your skirts up and your dignity down. Not that I blame you—those shadows of his seem remarkably... dexterous."
"Stop it," I hiss, crossing my arms defensively.
"And then," she claps her hands together in gleeful scandalization, "just when things were getting properly interesting, he calls out another woman's name! Even I felt that one, and I've been around for a few centuries."
I turn away, unwilling to let her see how deeply the incident has affected me. The rational part of my mind knows this reaction is dangerous. I cannot afford to care about Kaan's past lovers or current desires. My mission, my brother's life, everything depends on maintaining emotional distance.
I twist my mother’s ring on my finger three times but it doesn’t give me the grounding effect it once did.
But the irrational part, the part that responded so eagerly to his touch, burns with something that feels dangerously like jealousy.
"You're positively vibrating with unresolved tension," Banu observes, floating into my line of sight again. Her expression grows more serious, more analytical. "And something else. Could it be... jealousy?"
"Don't be absurd." The denial comes too quickly, too sharp.
"Then why are you sporting that 'I'm going to murder someone slowly with a dull spoon' expression? It's one of your more terrifying looks, by the way."
I rub my temples, trying to ease the throbbing that's taken up residence behind my eyes. The conflicting emotions are exhausting, desire, anger, hurt, confusion, all tangled together until I can barely think straight. "It's complicated."
"Oh, I'm sure it is," Banu agrees, settling cross-legged in midair with her wings spread for balance. "Complicated, messy, and absolutely dripping with sexual frustration."
"I am not sexually frustrated!" The declaration comes out louder than intended, and I immediately lower my voice. The walls in this palace have ears, and the last thing I need is servants gossiping about my personal business. "I simply want to know what I'm dealing with."
"Your body tells a different story," Banu singsongs, gesturing vaguely toward my entire form. "You're practically glowing with it. It's honestly a bit obscene."
I cross my arms more tightly, suddenly aware of how my body still hums with unfulfilled desire. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Let me paint you a picture," she offers, shifting to perch on my dressing table with supernatural balance. "You're married to an objectively attractive man—scary as all hell, granted, but those cheekbones? That voice? Those shadows that can reach places most men can only dream of…"
"Banu!"
"...and yet here you are, halfway to completion with no one to finish the job because he shouted another woman's name and stormed off in a huff. I'd be frustrated too."
I throw a hairbrush at her, which she neatly dodges with a tinkling laugh. "You're despicable."
"I'm honest," she corrects, her expression growing unexpectedly gentle.
"And honestly, darling, you need to decide what you want here.
Are you his enemy, playing a long game? Or are you his wife, trying to build something real?
Because this middle ground you're occupying is going to tear you apart. "
The truth in her words hits harder than I'd like to admit. I have been caught between roles, between the mission my father gave me and the undeniable pull I feel toward my husband. The blood bond complicates everything, making it impossible to separate my feelings from magical influence.
"He promised me a truth," I say finally, sinking into the chair beside my bed. "One truth in exchange for three of mine."
"And let me guess..." Banu leans forward conspiratorially. "You want to know about mysterious Isil?"
I don't answer, which is enough confirmation.
"Ah, curiosity—the downfall of both cats and assassins." Banu's smile turns wicked, but there's understanding in her ancient eyes. "Well, go on then. Storm his chambers. Demand your truth. See if the evening ends with answers or something significantly more... entertaining."
"I don't want him," I insist, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears. My body's response earlier proved that lie thoroughly.
"Of course you don't," Banu agrees with mock solemnity. "Which is why you should know that Lady Ayla from the Neutral Territories arrived shortly after your dramatic exit and is currently seeking a private audience with your husband."
The words hit me like ice water, stealing my breath. "What?"
"Tall, curvy, looks at Shadow Boy like he's a particularly delicious dessert she can't wait to sample?" Banu fans herself theatrically. "She arrived with some diplomatic pretext, but her intentions were about as subtle as an avalanche."
Something hot and possessive coils in my stomach, making my light magic flicker dangerously.
I recognize the emotion now, jealousy, pure and simple.
The lies I've been telling myself crumble in the face of this raw, possessive fury.
I can't pretend anymore—somewhere between our wedding night and this moment, he has become mine to lose.
"Why should I care?" I ask, though my voice lacks conviction.
"You shouldn't," Banu agrees readily. "After all, you don't want him, right?"
"Right," I say automatically, the lie bitter on my tongue.
"So, it won't bother you that she's likely working very hard to secure some... private time with him? Or that she keeps 'accidentally' finding reasons to touch him in a way that's about as accidental as an assassination plot?"
The image of another woman touching my husband, because that's what he is, isn't he, regardless of how this marriage came to be—makes something primal and violent rise within me. My hands clench into fists, light magic sparking between my fingers with more intensity than before.
"Not at all," I manage through gritted teeth.
"Excellent!" Banu claps her hands together with false enthusiasm. "Then you won't mind waiting until tomorrow to ask for your truth. I'm sure they'll be quite...occupied... tonight."
The thought of Kaan with another woman—his hands on her skin, his mouth at her throat, his shadows wrapping around her body the way they wrapped around mine, makes my vision blur with rage. I want to find this Lady Ayla and show her exactly what happens to women who touch what belongs to me.
The possessive thought stops me cold. When did I start thinking of Kaan as mine?
"Where might I find them?" I demand, rising from my chair with sudden purpose.
Banu's grin widens triumphantly. "Last I heard, she was requesting a tour of the Shadow Observatory. She seemed very keen to get Shadow Boy alone in that particular location. All those dark corners and private alcoves..."
I'm moving before I fully realize it, striding toward the door with my jaw set in determination. Whatever game I've been playing with myself, whatever denials I've been clinging to, they end now. Kaan is my husband, bound to me by magic and law. If anyone has a claim on his attention, it's me.
"And where might you be going?" Banu calls after me, laughter coloring her voice.
"To claim what's mine," I answer without thinking, then freeze with my hand on the doorknob. The words echo in my mind, horrifying in their implications.
When did I start thinking of him as mine to claim ?
Banu's delighted cackle follows me into the corridor. "About time! Tell Shadow Boy I said hello!" she calls just before the door swings shut behind me.