Chapter Twenty-two #2
"Does he?" He raises an eyebrow in challenge. "Or did he send you here knowing the blood bond would prevent you from killing Kaan without dying yourself? Knowing you'll eventually succumb to the bond's influence?"
Doubt crawls through me like poison. I think of my father's careful instructions, how he never mentioned the blood bond would make killing Kaan impossible. How he seemed unsurprised when I told him.
"I don't believe you," I say, but my voice lacks conviction.
"You don't want to believe me," he corrects. "But deep down, you know there's truth in what I am saying."
I stand, needing to move, to think. The dizziness has subsided enough that I can walk, though my legs still feel unsteady.
"My father did all of this…" My mind can't seem to wrap itself around this.
I'm staring at the floor when feet appear in front of me. When I look up, Damir is there, and all I see is Aslan in his gaze.
"I'm sorry, Nesi," he says, his expression flickering between pain and rage, as if two different people are fighting for control. "I want to save you, but seeing you with him... Damir's memories, his hatred—it's poisoning everything I feel for you."
I reach out to touch him, but he pulls away. The warmth I glimpsed vanishes, replaced by something cold and hard. "I saw you," he says flatly. "In the corridor with him."
Understanding crashes over me like a wave. The corridor. Kaan pressing me against the wall. My body responding shamefully, eagerly to his touch.
"Aslan, I can explain," I begin, though I have no idea what explanation could possibly suffice. "The blood bond—it creates feelings that aren't…"
"Aren't what?" he cuts me off, anger flaring. "Aren't real? Aren't yours? Don't insult me with excuses, Nesi. I was there. I saw the way you melted for him, the way you moaned his name."
Shame burns through me, hot and painful. "It's complicated," I whisper. "The magic between us…"
"Magic can only influence, not create," he says harshly. "It can't manufacture desire where none exists. It can't make you wrap your legs around your enemy's waist in a public corridor."
Each word is a knife, cutting deeper than any physical wound. I have no defense because he's right—the bond may have amplified my response to Kaan, but it didn't create it from nothing.
"I'm sorry," I say, the words woefully inadequate. "I never meant to hurt you." My lips drag down with a pain I can't even find words for. I have hurt him so badly.
"And yet you did," he replies, turning away. "But it doesn't matter now."
I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. "What do you mean?"
He moves to the small table, retrieving something from among various vials and instruments. When he turns back, he's holding a small crystal vial filled with iridescent purple liquid.
"I found a way to free you," he says, excitement suddenly replacing the bitterness in his voice. "To break the blood bond."
I stare at the vial in disbelief. "That's not possible. Kaan said the bond can never be broken."
"And you believed him?" Scorn drips from each word. "The man who enslaved you with blood magic? Of course, he would tell you it's permanent. He wants you to believe you're his forever."
"But the magic is ancient," I argue. "Even Banu said—"
"Your fairy friend knows much, but not everything," he interrupts. "Damir's memories contain knowledge passed through generations of Shadow Court guards, secrets even the Shadow Lord doesn't know."
He holds out the vial. "This will sever the magical connection completely. One drink, and you'll be free of him. Free to return to the Light Court. Free to be yourself again."
I should feel elated. This is what I wanted since the moment Kaan bound me to him: freedom from the magical tether that connects us. Yet I hesitate, my hand not reaching for the vial.
"What happens after?" I ask. "If the connection breaks, what then?"
"Then we leave," he says as if it's obvious. "We return to the Light Court, warn them about the prophecy, about the conspiracy between the courts."
"And Kaan?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
His eyes narrow. "What about him?"
"What happens to him if the bond breaks? Will it hurt him?"
A cruel smile twists his lips—an expression I've never seen on Aslan's face before. "Why would you care?"
"I just…I need to understand what this potion does," I say, though even to my own ears, the explanation sounds hollow.
He studies me, suspicion darkening his gaze. "The potion breaks the magical connection," he explains slowly. "It doesn't harm either participant physically. It simply... releases you from each other."
Relief washes through me, followed immediately by confusion at myreaction. Why should I care if Kaan suffers? After everything he’s done, doesn't he deserve pain?
"Take it," Aslan urges, pressing the vial into my hand. "Drink it, and this nightmare ends."
The glass is cool against my palm, the liquid inside shifting with hypnotic patterns. Freedom. An end to the constant pull of Kaan's presence in my mind. An escape from the confusion of feelings I've developed for my enemy .
Yet still I hesitate.
"What's wrong?" Aslan asks, impatience creeping into his voice. "Don't you want to be free of him?"
"I do, but…" I stop, unable to articulate the conflict raging inside me.
"But what?" His voice hardens dangerously. "What possible reason could you have to hesitate?"
I look away, unable to meet his gaze as I struggle with emotions I don't fully understand myself. Something in my expression must betray me because Aslan's face transforms with rage so intense it makes me step back instinctively.
"Love?" he spits the word like poison, a bitter laugh escaping him. "You love the monster who murdered me? Who helped kill your mother? Who has slaughtered countless innocents?"
"It's not that simple," I say, desperation creeping into my voice. "The bond changes things. It makes me feel…"
"It makes you feel nothing!" he roars, knocking the vial from my hand. It rolls across the floor, coming to rest against the wall. "That's the magic talking! It's not real!"
"How would you know what's real?" I challenge, anger rising to meet his. "You haven't felt it. You don't understand what it's like to have someone else's emotions mingling with yours, to sense their thoughts, their desires."
"I understand betrayal," he counters, stepping closer. "I understand watching the woman I died for spreading her legs for my murderer."
His words slam into me like physical blows, each one finding the tender places where my guilt lives. "That's not fair," I whisper.
"Fair?" he laughs bitterly. "Was it fair when Kaan's shadows tore me apart while you watched? Is it fair when I wake up trapped in another man's body, forced to watch you surrender to him over and over?"
A flicker of movement catches my eye—a flash of silver at the window. Banu hovers outside, her tiny face contorted with panic as she beats silently against an invisible barrier. Her mouth moves frantically, but no sound penetrates the cottage walls.
"She can't help you," Aslan says, following my gaze. "The barrier isn't just magical, it's iron-laced, woven with the one element that drains fairy power. Each time she strikes it, it weakens her further, but she keeps trying anyway."
There's something wrong with his voice now, his eyes flicker between amber and a darker, flat black, as if two souls are fighting for control of one body.
"Aslan, please," I say, trying to keep my voice calm despite the fear building in my chest. "This isn't you. Let me go, and we can figure this out together."
"Together?" he laughs, the sound sharp and unfamiliar. "Like you and Kaan together? Fucking against walls where anyone could see? Did you scream his name like that when I was alive?"
"Stop," I whisper, shame burning through me again.
"I watched you surrender to him," he continues, stalking closer. "I watched you melt for the man who tore me apart. And you want me to let you go back to him?"
Outside, Banu throws herself against the barrier with increasing desperation. The cottage trembles with each impact, dust raining from the ceiling, but the barrier holds.
"You're not yourself," I say, moving around the table to put distance between us. My stomach twists, and every alarm bell goes off in my head. "This is Damir talking, not you."
His expression shifts suddenly, the eyes that stare down at me cycling between Aslan's amber, Damir's dark brown, and something else entirely—a black void that suggests whatever magic brought Aslan back came with a terrible price. "Does it matter? He hates you, too. We all do."
He lunges across the table, faster than I can react in my weakened state. His hand closes around my injured arm, fingers digging into the open wound. I cry out as pain lances through me, fresh blood welling between his fingers.
"I love you," he snarls, face inches from mine. "I would have died for you willingly. Instead, I died because of you, and you reward my sacrifice by opening your legs for my murderer."
Terror floods my system, and suddenly the fog in my mind clears slightly—adrenaline burning through whatever drug is in my system.
With unexpected strength, he hurls me across the room.
I hit the wall hard, my head snapping back against the wooden planks with a sickening crack.
Stars explode across my vision as air is forced from my lungs in a painful rush.
Before I can recover, he's on me again, his fist connecting with my cheekbone.
The impact sends my head sideways, and I taste blood as my teeth cut into my lip.
"Aslan, stop!" I plead through swelling lips, struggling against his grip. "This isn't you!"
"Isn't it?" he challenges, backhanding me across the other cheek. The force tears my lip completely, blood trickling down my chin. One hand moves to my throat while the other grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. "How would you know? You replaced me the moment I was gone."