Chapter Twenty-two
The Betrayal
Nesilhan
I WAKE TO pain and darkness. My head throbs with each pulse of my heart, and the metallic taste of blood coats my tongue. Disorientation clouds my thoughts as I try to piece together what happened. The palace corridor. The struggle. The cloth pressed against my face.
Someone took me.
Forcing my eyes open, I blink against a dim firelight that reveals rough wooden walls.
I'm in a small cottage, sparse and utilitarian—a single room with a hearth, table, and bed where I now lie.
My limbs feel heavy. When I try to call my light magic, only the faintest flicker responds before dying away.
The sedative has dampened my abilities but not eliminated them entirely;I can feel the magic there, just muted and difficult to grasp.
Testing my muscles, I push myself to a sitting position, wincing at the sharp pain that lances through my right arm. A deep cut traces from my elbow to wrist, blood dried in a flaking crust around the wound. I remember fighting my attacker in the palace corridor, but the details remain hazy.
A shadow moves near the hearth.
"Don't try to stand," a familiar voice commands. "The sedative hasn't fully worn off."
Damir steps into the firelight, his face partially obscured by shadows. My assigned guard. The man who was supposed to protect me.
"Why?" I manage, my voice rough from disuse. "Why did you bring me here?" I'm growing more alert and studying him as he steps closer.
He doesn't answer immediately; instead, moves to pour water from a pitcher into a wooden cup.
His movements are precise, controlled, but there's a tension in his shoulders I haven't seen before.
When he approaches, I notice something different in his eyes—a coldness, an anger that makes me shrink back despite myself.
"Drink," he says, offering the cup.
I hesitate, eyeing it suspiciously.
"If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't bother with poison," he says flatly. "You'd already be dead."
Reluctantly, I accept the cup, the cool water soothing my parched throat. As I drink, I study his face, searching for answers. I want to ask why he took me, but I start with something simple.
"Where are we?" I ask, setting the empty cup beside me on the bed.
"Far enough from the palace that Kaan's shadows can't reach us easily," he replies, moving back to lean against the rough-hewn table. "A hunting cottage abandoned decades ago. No one will find us here."
"Us? So you're what—my kidnapper? My jailor?" I swing my legs over the side of the bed, fighting the wave of dizziness that follows. "Why, Damir? I thought you were loyal to the Shadow Court."
A bitter laugh escapes him, hollow and laced with something that sounds almost like grief. "Loyal to the Shadow Court? No. Never that."
"Then who?" I press, noting the way to the door, measuring the distance against my weakened state. "Who are you loyal to?"
He watches me calculate my escape, a small smile playing at his lips. "Don't bother. You wouldn't make it three steps before collapsing, and even if you could run, there's nowhere to go. We're surrounded by the Dead Forest. Without a guide, you'd be lost forever."
I straighten my spine, refusing to show fear. "You didn't answer my question."
"Who am I loyal to?" He repeats, tilting his head in a gesture that strikes me as strangely familiar, though I can't place why. "I was loyal to you, Nesi. Only ever to you."
The nickname sends a chill through me. Damir has never called me that—only ever "Lady Nesilhan" with formal deference. Only those closest to me used that name: my brother, my father, and...
"You don't recognize me?" he asks, something vulnerable flickering across his face. "Look closer. Really look at me."
I stare at him, confusion giving way to unease. Had I met him before arriving at the Shadow Court? No, my memory doesn't seem to have cataloged him. Yet there's something in the way he holds himself now, something in the cadence of his speech that echoes with painful familiarity.
"I don't understand," I say carefully. "I know who you are. You're Damir, assigned to my personal guard by Kaan himself."
"That's the vessel," he says, stepping closer. "Look at what's inside."
As he comes nearer, firelight catches his eyes, and for just a moment, I see a flash of amber overtaking their natural dark color. My breath catches in my throat.
"No," I whisper, disbelief warring with impossible hope. "It can't be."
"Why not?" he challenges, crouching before me so our eyes are level. "Because you saw me die? Because you watched Kaan tear my body apart?" Bitterness laces each word. "Death isn't always the end, Nesi. Sometimes it's just a... transition."
I shake my head, refusing to accept what he's suggesting. My throat burns as my brows draw together, and I continue to shake my head. "This is madness. You're not—you can't be—"
"Ask me something," he interrupts. "Something only he would know."
My mind races, searching for something, anything that would prove or disprove this impossible claim. "The first gift you ever gave me," I say finally. "What was it?"
A smile touches his lips—not Damir's smile, but another's, heartbreakingly familiar. "A crescent moon pendant carved from white birch. You wore it on a leather cord hidden beneath your training clothes because your father forbade personal attachments between assassins."
My hand rises unconsciously to my throat where that pendant once rested. My heart starts to gallop. "That doesn't prove anything," I insist, though doubt creeps in. "You could have learned that from surveillance, from reports."
"Then ask me something else," he challenges. "Something no report could contain."
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "The night before my first major assignment—what did I confess to you?"
His expression softens, and when he speaks, his voice carries an intimacy that makes my heart clench.
"You told me you were afraid, not of failing or dying, but of succeeding.
Of taking a life and losing something of yourself in the process.
" He leans closer. "And afterward, when you returned with blood still under your fingernails, I held you while you cried, and you made me swear never to tell another soul that the perfect assassin had a conscience. "
Tears sting my eyes as memories flood back, the weight of his arms around me, the security I felt in his embrace, the understanding that had passed between us without words.
"How?" I whisper, reaching out hesitantly to touch his face. "How is this possible?"
He allows the touch, his skin warm beneath my trembling fingers.
Yet his gaze doesn't soften at my touch.
Words flow from his mouth in almost a monotone.
"When Kaan's shadows tore me apart, my consciousness didn't die with my body.
It was flung outward, searching for an anchor.
And there was Damir, watching from the forest's edge. "
"Watching?" I pull back, confusion replacing shock.
"He was following Kaan," he explains, rising to pace the small room.
"When my consciousness merged with Damir’s, I gained access to all his memories, his mission, his purpose.
He tracked the Shadow Lord's movements for weeks, documenting his activities, his weaknesses.
" A harsh laugh escapes him. "Damir was never loyal to Kaan; he was placed in the Shadow Court as a spy long before you arrived. "
The thought of someone betraying Kaan has me pushing for answers. My fingers dig into the mattress. "But why?" I press. "What interest would Damir have in Kaan?"
He turns, something calculating entering his expression. He hesitates like he doesn't want to say, but he finally speaks. "He knew about the prophecy."
My blood runs cold. "What prophecy?"
If Aslan detects my lie, he doesn't show it .
"'When shadow and light join in blood, the ancient divide shall heal,'" he recites, watching my reaction carefully. "'Two courts become one throne, when enemies become lovers, when hatred turns to something deeper.'"
The words from the ancient text I discovered in the library echo in my ears. "How do you know about that?"
"Damir was assigned to monitor Kaan long before you came to the Court," he explains. "The Shadow Council has known about the prophecy for centuries, the possibility that a child born of shadow and light would unite the realms under a single rule."
He moves closer again, something dark flashing in his eyes.
"He was watching Kaan, waiting to see if he might fulfill the prophecy by bringing a Light Court bride into his bed.
" His lip curls in disgust. "It's really quite disgusting, you know.
The way they manipulate events, nudge circumstances to fulfill their ancient prediction. "
My mind spins. "They?" I echo. "Who exactly?"
"Both courts," he says bitterly. "Light and Shadow, enemies on the surface but collaborating beneath to ensure the prophecy comes true. Your father, the Council, all of them playing their parts." His voice hardens. "Even your marriage to Kaan isn't accidental. They planned it for years."
A fist forms in my stomach, and bile slowly rises up my throat. "What are you saying?"
"Your father didn't cause the incident with Zoran, but when it happened, he saw his chance.
He knew Kaan watched you during negotiations.
Instead of trying to negotiate a different payment, he pushed for you specifically, knowing what it would lead to.
" His laugh is bitter, hollow. "Your father counted on Kaan demanding you as payment for the blood debt.
It was all staged, Nesi. Your father orchestrated the entire situation to place you in Kaan's bed, to fulfill the prophecy. "
I shake my head in disbelief. "No. My father wants me to kill Kaan, not bear his child."