Chapter 12 #2
"Why interfere in my marriage?" I advance slowly, every step sending fresh agony through my broken ribs.
"Why agree to this? You could have found a way to break it.
You could have told me. Instead you kept it secret, kept her secret, kept waiting for what?
For me to fail? For her to come running to you? "
"Because Erlik convinced me you'd destroy her.
" Yasar doesn't retreat. Doesn't flinch.
Just stands there bleeding and broken and somehow still looking at me like I'm the one who should be ashamed.
"That she needed someone who could understand shadow magic without being consumed by it. That I could save her from you."
"Save her by kissing her against her will?"
"Against her will?" Yasar's laugh is sharp, bitter, edged with something I don't want to examine too closely. "That's rich, cousin dearest. She kissed me first."
The world stops.
"What?"
"You heard me." Yasar wipes blood from his eyes, that sharp smile returning.
"The binding was pulling at both of us, making her body move, making her lean in.
She kissed me. I kissed her back." He pauses.
"Because I'm only a man, and any man in my situation wouldn't be able to stop himself. Have you seen her? She's stunning."
I'm on him before thought catches up.
My fist connects with his face—crack. His head snaps back. I hit him again. And again. We go down hard, me on top, raining blows like I can beat the truth out of him, like I can beat the image of her lips on his out of my skull.
"She's—" Punch. "MINE!" Another. "Not—" His nose breaks again. "YOURS!
Yasar laughs through blood and broken teeth, and somehow that's worse than anything else he could do. "Tell that to the binding. Tell that to the magic making her crave my touch. Tell that to her lips on mine before I even—"
I roar, wordless and savage, both hands finding his throat.
"Touch a single hair on her head again," I snarl, squeezing, "and I will make you wish Erlik never taught you to breathe."
His face is turning colors. Good.
But he's still smiling. Even choking, he's fucking smiling.
"Do it," he gasps out. "Kill me. See what happens."
"Gladly."
"The binding—" He claws at my wrists. "Works both ways. My life—tied to hers. You kill me—" Cough. Blood bubbles. "She dies too."
My hands freeze.
"Liar."
"Truth." His smile is vicious even struggling for air. "Erlik made sure. Kill me, the binding snaps. Violently. Takes her soul with it." He coughs. "Three minutes. Maybe less. Before her magical core implodes."
I stare down at him. At my hands around his throat. At the impossible choice.
Kill him and risk her.
Or let him live.
"FUCK!" I release him, shoving hard. "FUCK!"
Yasar coughs, gasping, but he's still smiling. Of course he is. Even half-dead in the mud, he's won this round and he knows it.
"That's what I thought." He sits up slowly. "I'm insurance, cousin dearest. The only way to break it?" He spits blood. "Requires both of us. Shadow and shadow-fire. Together."
"I'll find another way."
"Good luck." Yasar climbs to his feet, swaying. "I've been searching since it was forged. There isn't one. Not without her consent. Not without both of us. Not without—" He pauses. "Pain that would make her beg for death."
We're both standing now, breathing hard. Two monsters in the storm, both pretending we're not.
"She kissed you first," I say, the words tasting like poison.
"She did." Yasar doesn't apologize. Doesn't soften it. "And yes—I kissed her back. Because magic was singing through both of us, and she's—" He stops. "She's magnificent, Kaan. Even you have to admit that."
"Careful, cousin." My voice drops to something cold, fetal. "You're describing my wife like you have any right to notice."
"Am I?" His smile turns sharp. "Because from where I stand, my life is tied to hers.
Which means I'm the safest man in this realm.
You can't kill me without killing her. Can't hurt me without hurting her.
Can't do anything except—" He limps closer.
"Live with the knowledge that part of her will always be bound to me.
That binding gave her what you never could. "
"And what's that?"
"A choice." Yasar's voice is firm. Final. "Even if it's just the illusion of one. She knows there's a door. An escape route. Someone else who could—"
"Could what?" I take a step closer. "Steal her? Save her? Have her?"
"Give her options." He doesn't back down. "Something you've never done. Forced marriage. Forced bond. Forced to watch her child die because you chose her. At least the binding gave her back one thing—the knowledge she's not completely trapped with just you."
The truth lands like a blade.
"Forced bond. Forced to watch her child die because you chose her. At least the binding gave her back one thing—the knowledge she's not completely trapped with just you."
The truth lands like a blade.
"Fascinating logic," I say, and I'm almost impressed by how steady my voice sounds. "You bound yourself to my wife without her consent to give her... what was it? Options?"
"I get to feel her revulsion every time the binding forces attraction.
" His smile turns bitter. "I get to know she'd rather die than want me.
I get to be the monster in her nightmare who can't even apologize because the magic won't let go.
" He spits blood. "Trust me. This isn't the victory you think it is for either of us. "
"And what do you feel?" The question comes out sharper than I intend. "Through the binding. What does it give you?"
Something flickers across his face—there and gone.
"Everything she doesn't want me to have.
Her fear. Her grief. Her loneliness." His voice drops.
"The way she aches for you even when she's furious.
The way she touches her stomach sometimes and just..
. breaks." He meets my eyes. "I feel all of it.
Every moment. And I can't do a single thing to help her. "
The words hang in the air between us. Something in his voice—that raw edge of genuine suffering—almost reaches me. Almost. For a moment, I see it: the perfect trap of the binding, how it tortures them both. How neither of them chose this. My shadows still, just for a heartbeat.
Then I remember her face when she looks at him. The way the binding forces her toward someone who isn't me. The way she might have felt his lips on hers while I was bleeding on a battlefield, fighting for a realm that keeps finding new ways to betray me.
"Yasar."
He stops. Doesn't turn.
"You're right. You are another monster." My shadows writhe with dark promise.
"But here's the difference between us. You think giving her options makes you noble.
I know I'm a monster, and I don't fucking care.
" My voice drops to something cold, cruel.
"She's mine. Binding or no binding. Your life is tied to hers or not.
She's mine. And if I have to work with you to break Erlik's magic?
Fine. We'll break it together. But the moment she's free? "
I let the threat hang.
Yasar turns slowly. His smile is sharp, knowing. "The moment she's free, what? You'll kill me?" He laughs. "By all means, try. I'll be waiting."
He limps away across muddy ground, leaving bloody footprints.
The crowd parts in silence.
I stand there, rain washing blood, watching him go. Fury and frustration warring in my chest.
He's right. About all of it. And I hate him for it.
"Well." I turn toward the palace, rolling my shoulder and wincing when something grinds that shouldn't. "That was enlightening. And therapeutic. Mostly therapeutic."
I stride past the training ground, past soldiers who immediately avert their eyes. Smart.
Zoran appears, falling into step. Doesn't say a word. Also smart.
Emir materializes on my other side, his expression carefully neutral.
"My lord," he says carefully, "should I summon a healer?"
"For what? A few broken ribs and a bruised ego?" I flash him a smile that probably looks terrifying given the blood covering my face. "I've had worse from breakfast."
Through the crowd of guards, servants, soldiers—all watching, all silent. Bearing witness to their Shadow Lord covered in bloody mud.
Let them watch.
Let them see what happens when someone touches what's mine.
I'm halfway across the courtyard when I feel it through the bond—a spike of awareness. Her attention.
I look up.
There. In the window of our chambers. Third floor, east wing.
Nesilhan stands framed by darkness, golden eyes fixed on me across the distance. Even from here, I see her expression—unreadable, guarded, that careful mask she wears that tells me nothing and everything at once.
We lock eyes.
For one suspended moment, the world narrows to just us. Her in the window. Me covered in her binding-partner's blood.
Through our damaged bond, I feel it—the war raging inside her. Relief that I'm alive. Terror at what I've done. Fury at the binding. And underneath it all, buried so deep she probably doesn't even know it's there:
A tiny, treacherous spark of something that might be hope.
I hold her gaze. Let my shadows writhe around me like a dark promise.
You're mine, I tell her through the bond, through our connection, through the look alone. Binding or no binding. Cousin or no cousin. You're mine, and I will burn down everything—including him, including myself—before I let you go.
She doesn't flinch. Doesn't look away.
Just stares back with those golden eyes that have haunted me since the moment I first saw her.
Then she turns.
Walks away from the window.
I force myself to keep walking. Past soldiers. Past servants. Into the palace. My ribs scream with every step, but pain is just another reminder that I'm alive. That I can still fight. That I haven't lost her yet.
The doors close behind me with a sound like judgment.
My shadows trail behind me, leaving black marks on marble.
No one speaks.
No one dares.
Smart.