Chapter Eighteen #3
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, surprising us both. "Is this how you redecorate? No wonder the palace always seems to be under construction."
His answering smile transforms his face, making him look younger, almost boyish, despite the predatory gleam that never fully leaves his eyes. "Only when properly motivated, hatun. "
He withdraws from me carefully, his shadows helping lower me to my feet when my legs prove too unsteady.
I should feel embarrassed standing before him like this—naked, marked by his touch, surrounded by the evidence of our passion.
Instead, I feel strangely powerful, knowing I drove him to such loss of control.
"This still changes nothing," I say, though even to my own ears the words sound hollow.
He retrieves my torn clothing, offering it with surprising gentleness. "Keep telling yourself that, hatun , if it helps you sleep at night."
As I dress in the ruined garments, I notice him watching me with that same unreadable expression from earlier. Whatever the name Isil means to him, it's clearly significant enough to remain tightly guarded, even after this level of intimacy.
"You still owe me a truth," I remind him, fastening what remains of my gown .
His expression closes, shadows gathering more densely around him. "Not that one."
"Then another," I press, unwilling to leave empty-handed after everything we've shared.
He studies me for a long moment, then nods once. "Very well. Ask, and if it's within my power to answer, I will."
I consider carefully, knowing this opportunity may not come again. Despite my father's mission for me, the reality of our blood bond complicates everything. If I managed to kill Kaan but died in the process, my brother's life would still be forfeit. I need to understand what's possible.
"Is there a way to break the blood bond between us?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel. "Can it be undone?"
His entire body goes still, shadows freezing in mid-swirl around him. For a moment, he looks genuinely shocked by my question, vulnerability flashing across his features before his expression hardens once more.
"No," he answers, the single syllable falling between us with the weight of finality. There's no mockery in his tone, no cruel amusement—just brutal, simple truth.
"Never?" I press, needing to be certain. "Even with powerful magic? Ancient rituals?"
"Never," he confirms, his shadows resuming their movement, though more subdued than before.
"The blood bond is permanent, hatun . Until death and beyond.
There have been attempts throughout history—desperate ones, fueled by hatred or fear—but none have succeeded.
" He studies my face carefully. "The bond can be blocked temporarily, as you've discovered through your fairy friend's potions, but broken? No. It simply isn't possible."
The realization settles over me like a shroud. I'm truly bound to him, then—not just in name or by political arrangement, but by magic older than either of our courts. My father's plan was always doomed to failure, unless he intended my death alongside Kaan's.
"Why do you ask?" Kaan inquires, genuine curiosity in his tone. "Planning your escape already, after what we just shared?"
I turn away, unable to meet his eyes. "I just needed to know where I stand. What options remain to me."
"Options," he repeats, his voice turning cooler. "You speak as if this is a negotiation, hatun . It never was. From the moment you agreed to take your brother's place, your fate was sealed. As was mine."
That last part catches my attention. "What do you mean, 'as was mine?’"
He doesn't answer immediately; instead, he moves to retrieve a robe from a nearby chair, which he drapes around my shoulders. The unexpected gesture of consideration takes me by surprise.
"The blood bond affects us both," he says finally. "It binds me to you as surely as it binds you to me. Whatever fate awaits one, awaits the other." His shadows coil more tightly around him. "So you see, your desire to break the bond is rather... concerning from my perspective."
I pull the robe tighter around me, suddenly cold despite the fire still burning in the hearth. "I needed to know."
"And now you do," he replies simply. "We are bound, Nesilhan. For better or worse. In pleasure or pain. In life and even after."
The implications of his words settle heavily upon me. My mission to kill him would inevitably result in my own destruction. Did my father know this when he sent me here? Was my death an acceptable sacrifice for Kaan's elimination?
As I move toward the door, navigating around fallen books and shattered ornaments, his voice stops me.
"Nesilhan."
I turn, surprised by his use of my actual name rather than the possessive " hatun " he usually favors .
"The room has seen better days," he observes, glancing at the destruction around us. "Perhaps you should stay the night. To help with... cleanup."
The invitation is transparent, his intentions clear in the heat that still lingers in his gaze. I should refuse, should retreat to my own chambers to think, to process everything that's happened.
Instead, I find myself nodding, taking a step back toward him rather than away.
"I suppose that would be the responsible thing to do," I agree, a smile tugging at my lips despite my best efforts to suppress it.
His answering smile is predatory, shadows already reaching for me with renewed purpose.
"Responsible," he echoes, pulling me back into his arms. "Not a word often used to describe me. But for you, hatun , I'm willing to make an exception."
As his lips claim mine once more, I surrender to the knowledge that whatever line we've crossed tonight, there's no going back. For better or worse, everything has indeed changed.