Chapter Twenty-Six
The Truth Revealed
Nesilhan
I STARE AT the ceiling of my chamber, counting the intricate patterns in the obsidian molding for the third time this morning.
My stomach churns unpleasantly, a persistent nausea that plagues me for days now.
I attribute it to stress—the prophecy, my growing feelings for Kaan, the constant political machinations surrounding us, but deep down, I suspect it might be something else entirely.
A flash of silver light announces Banu's arrival before she fully materializes beside my bed. Her usual dramatic entrance is subdued today, her wings drooping slightly as she notices me lying down.
"Someone looks particularly miserable today," she says, hovering closer. "Are you trying for the 'tragic heroine wasting away from forbidden love' aesthetic, or is something actually wrong? "
I attempt to sit up but immediately regret the movement as my stomach lurches in protest. "I think something I ate disagreed with me."
Banu's eyebrows shoot up, her silver-blonde hair shifting to a concerned blue. "Food has been disagreeing with you for three days now, Nesi. Either the Shadow Court has the worst kitchen staff in all the realms, or something else is going on."
She lands gently on the edge of my bed, her expression uncharacteristically serious. "I meant to give you something," she says, reaching into a hidden pocket in her flowing silver robes. "I figured you might want this back."
The small crystal vial she produces makes my heart stutter. Inside, iridescent purple liquid shifts with hypnotic patterns—the potion Aslan tried to force on me, the one he claimed would break my blood bond with Kaan.
"You kept it?" I whisper, pushing myself to a sitting position through my nausea. "Why?"
Banu shrugs, twirling the vial between her delicate fingers. "Call it insurance. Just because you don't want to use it now doesn't mean you won't need it someday."
I reach for the vial hesitantly. "You think I should take it?"
"I think," she says carefully, "that you should have options. Even if you're currently head over heels for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Homicidal."
"I'm not—" I begin automatically, then stop myself. What's the point of denying it anymore? To Banu, to myself, to anyone? "Is it that obvious?"
Her laugh is gentle rather than mocking. "Only to anyone with eyes, ears, or basic observational skills. You look at him like he hung the moon instead of occasionally using it for ritualistic shadow magic."
I take the vial from her, studying the liquid inside. Once, I would have given anything for this, freedom from the bond that connects me to Kaan. Now, the thought of severing that connection makes my chest ache with unexpected loss.
"I'll keep it," I decide, tucking it into a concealed fold in my gown. "But I don't think I'll…"
My sentence cuts off as a fresh surge of sickness hits me, stronger than before. I barely make it to the bathroom before emptying the contents of my stomach into a basin. Banu follows, holding my hair back as I retch miserably.
"There, there," she soothes, her small hand rubbing circles on my back. "Just let it all out. Though preferably not on my new slippers—they're made from moonbeam silk, very hard to clean."
Even with my misery, I manage a weak laugh. "Your concern is touching."
"I'm a fairy of many talents. Sympathy, fashion advice, and holding back hair while my favorite human vomits her guts out." She hands me a damp cloth to wipe my mouth. "Not necessarily in that order."
When the bout of illness finally passes, Banu helps me to my feet. "You need some fresh air," she decides. "This room smells like a combination of shadow magic and misery, which cannot be helping."
I do not argue, letting her guide me through the palace corridors and out into the eastern garden. The twilight breeze is cool against my flushed skin, the scent of night-blooming flowers surprisingly soothing to my unsettled stomach.
"Better?" Banu asks as I take a deep breath.
"A little," I admit, moving toward a stone bench beneath an ancient tree whose leaves shimmer with faint silver light. "The garden air helps."
We have just settled on the bench when Banu suddenly tenses beside me. "Company incoming," she murmurs, nodding toward the far end of the garden .
Kaan and Emir walk along a shadowed path, their heads bent close in what appears to be an intense conversation. Even from this distance, I can see the tension in Kaan's shoulders, the tight set of his jaw that indicates he's deeply troubled about something.
"I don't want him to see me like this," I murmur, shrinking back against the tree. "He'll start fussing, and I can't handle his hovering right now."
Banu studies the pair, her head tilted in that way that means she's curious.
"Their conversation seems heated," she observes.
"Emir looks worried—more than usual, I mean.
That man's default expression is 'mildly concerned.
'" She sighs dramatically, her wings fluttering a little faster.
"Though I must say, concern looks exceptionally good on him.
Have you noticed how his forehead creases just so when he's troubled? And those shoulders..."
I turn to her in surprise, catching an unmistakable gleam in her eyes as she watches Emir. "Banu! Are you... attracted to Emir?"
Her silver-blonde locks suddenly shift to a telling pink, and she coughs delicately.
"I have eyes, don't I? Just because he's Shadow Court doesn't mean I can't appreciate the view.
That man wears authority like a second skin.
" She fans herself theatrically. "Besides, there's something irresistible about someone who can maintain perfect posture while constantly surrounded by chaos. "
I stare at her, momentarily distracted from mytroubles. In all our time together, I never heard Banu express genuine interest in anyone—her commentary usually limited to sarcastic observations rather than admiration.
"I had no idea," I say, unable to hide my astonishment.
"Don't look so shocked," she scoffs, though her hair remains tellingly pink. "Even fairies have taste. And speaking of taste—" She turns back to the approaching men with renewed interest.
Before I can stop her, Banu rises from the bench. "Give me a minute," she adds, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Banu, no—" I reach for her, but she's already shimmering into invisibility. "You shouldn't eavesdrop on people's conversations!" I hiss into the empty air, but I'm fairly certain she's already gone.
I sit back with a sigh, feeling marginally better as the cool evening air continues to work its magic on my unsettled stomach.
Still, an underlying queasiness remains, along with a bone-deep fatigue that's unlike anything I have experienced before.
A treacherous thought that hovers at the edges of my mind for days now pushes forward with renewed insistence: what if this isn't illness at all?
My cycle has always been regular—a necessity for an assassin who cannot afford to be caught off guard by anything, even her own body. And yet, I missed my monthly bleeding. Once could be attributed to stress. Twice is... another matter entirely.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I do not notice Banu's return until she materializes directly in front of me, an annoyed expression on her face.
"Well?" I ask, curious regardless. "What were they discussing?"
Banu rolls her eyes dramatically. "Boy chat, mostly.
Very dull. But I think Shadow Boy sensed me there—his shadows did this weird twitchy thing and started reaching in my direction.
" She shudders. "I had to leave before he caught me.
He's getting better at detecting my presence, which is both impressive and inconvenient. "
Through my nausea, I find myself laughing. "Boy chat? What does that even mean?"
"Oh, you know," Banu waves her hand dismissively, "Council politics, border patrols, whether their swords are bigger than the Light Court generals'. The usual testosterone-fueled nonsense." She grins wickedly. "Though I must say, Emir's sword does look rather substantial. "
"Banu!" I exclaim, my laughter growing in spite of myself.
"What? I'm making observations. For purely academic purposes, of course."
Her ridiculous commentary keeps me distracted until another spell of nausea hits unexpectedly. My laughter cuts off abruptly as I press a hand to my mouth, bile rising in my throat.
"Nesi?" Banu's amusement transforms to worry instantly. "Are you going to be sick again?"
I nod, unable to speak as I try desperately to control the rising nausea. Banu takes my arm without hesitation, guiding me back toward the palace as quickly as my unsteady legs will carry me.
We barely make it to my chambers before I'm retching again, this time bringing up nothing but bitter bile. Banu hovers anxiously nearby, her wings fluttering with obvious concern.
"That's it," she announces when I finally slump back, exhausted. "This isn't normal, Nesi, and we both know it."
I close my eyes, too tired to argue. "It's just stress. The prophecy, Aslan, everything with Kaan..."
"And the missed cycles?" she challenges, her voice surprisingly gentle. "The fatigue? The way certain smells have been making you gag for weeks now?"
I open my eyes to find her watching me with uncharacteristic seriousness. "Nesi," she says softly, "is there any chance you might be pregnant?"
The question hits me like a physical blow, giving voice to the fear—and hope—I've been too afraid to acknowledge even to myself. "I... I've wondered," I admit, my hand instinctively moving to my abdomen. "My symptoms..."
"I need to test you," Banu says decisively.
"Test me? How? "
"Fairy magic," she says simply. "It's quite accurate for detecting new life. But we need to do it properly."