Page 42 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

“Martha,” I acknowledged coolly. I knew her vaguely—a woman with fae blood who lingered in the palace corridors, though I’d heard whispers she was once involved with Midas before some scandal left her broken and drinking away her sorrows. She was tolerated here more out of pity than welcome.

“Your esteemed guest has arrived while my last bottle has disappeared. Perhaps remind your guards that not everything in this palace belongs to them?” Without waiting for a response, she staggered away, dignity somehow intact despite her dishevelment.

“She’s hurting,” Sarp observed quietly. “The spirits are the only thing that dulls her pain these days.”

“Her problems are her own,” I replied dismissively, though something in her defiant eyes had struck a chord. Another casualty of Shadow Court politics.

When we reached the east chamber, Midas lounged in my chair like he owned it, a goblet of my finest wine in his hand—clearly he’d helped himself while waiting, the arrogant bastard.

Midas hadn’t changed—still handsome in that cold, calculated way that characterized Erlik’s inner circle. His silver eyes held the same calculation, the same hunger for power thathad once consumed me. Looking at him was like staring into a mirror of my past self.

“Ah, the prodigal son,” he drawled, not bothering to rise. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our appointment.” His eyes flicked to Sarp with distaste. “And you’ve brought your…pet.”

“Personal security,” Sarp corrected. “Hakan gets cranky when he has to clean blood out of the carpets himself.”

“I’ve been occupied,” I replied coldly. “What brings you here, Midas?”

“Your father sent me, of course.” Midas swirled the wine in his glass. Our long-standing rivalry went back decades—both of us favored sons in Erlik’s court, though I by blood and he by cunning. “He’s…concerned about your recent activities.”

“What I do with my resources is my concern,” I said. “Was there something specific my father wanted?”

“He wants to ensure you remember your obligations, Hakan. The Crown of Ashes Ritual approaches, and certain…preparations must be made.”

The thought of performing such a ritual on Ada had bile rising in my throat.

“Will you?” Midas raised an eyebrow. “Because from where I stand, you seem rather distracted by your new bride. The daughter of Gün Ata, no less. A fascinating choice.”

“A necessary choice,” I corrected. “For the ritual.”

With my memories fully restored, I was at war with myself—the man I'd been before, who loved Ada desperately, and the shadow lord I'd become, who'd spent years embracing cruelty as strength. Every protective instinct toward her battled against five years of conditioning that screamed weakness would destroy us both.

“Yes, of course. The ritual.” Midas waved his hand dismissively, then paused. “I see you encountered our mutualfriend Martha in the corridors. She grows more pathetic by the day, doesn’t she? A cautionary tale of what happens to those who mistake their place in our world.”

The casual cruelty in his tone twisted something inside me. “She seemed quite convinced someone had stolen her spirits.”

“Merely protecting her from herself,” Midas replied with a thin smile. “She was once…useful. Now she’s just another broken plaything. Much like your light-bearer will be, after the ritual.”

His deliberate comparison between Martha and Ada’s potential fate sent a chill down me. Was this what awaited Ada? To become another hollow shell wandering the Shadow Court, seeking oblivion in bottles of shadow spirits?

“Though I must say, having seen her myself now, I understand why you might be…diverted from your purpose. She’s even more exquisite than rumored. All that light contained in such a delectable form.”

Rage surged through me. The temperature in the room plummeted as my shadows responded to my fury, frost crystallizing on the windows.

“You’ve seen her?” My voice emerged as a dangerous whisper.

Midas’s smile widened. “I made a point of it. I did more than observe. We had quite the…enlightening conversation.” His silver eyes glinted with malice. “She walks with minimal escort,” he said with a predatory smile. “Rather careless security for such a valuable asset. Though I suppose you prefer her to feel…unconfined.”

Something primitive and possessive erupted within me. My vision edged with darkness, heart hammering with such violence my pulse roared in my ears. My shadows responded to emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in years—jealousy,fierce protectiveness, and buried beneath it all, love that had never truly died despite my best efforts to kill it.

The room plunged into near darkness as my shadows erupted. My hand shot forward, shadows condensing into a lance aimed at Midas’s throat.

But he was ready. His shadows rose to meet mine, violent obsidian colliding with midnight black. The impact sent shock waves through the chamber, knocking over furniture. The walls groaned under the pressure of our combined power, ice spreading across the stone.

“Touched a nerve, have I?” Midas laughed, his power flaring to match mine.

A tendril caught my cheek, opening a thin line of blood.

“You went nowhere near her,” I snarled, pushing harder.

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