Their presence here wasn’t coincidental. Since Erlik had discovered Ada’s identity as Gün Ata’s daughter—his old rival—and ordered me to bind her to me with the ritual, he had been testing me.

The great hall fell silent while the temperature dropped several degrees without warning. Even my demonic cousins tensed, their shadows retreating instinctively as a presence far more ancient and powerful than theirs filled the space.

Kaan entered without fanfare, but he didn’t need it. My older half-brother, eight centuries of existence, had given him a presence that made even Erlik’s other children seem like mere shadows in comparison. Unlike the demonic cousins, Kaan had earned his position through centuries of rule rather than simply being born into it. His dark hair showed threads of silver now, and there was something in his gaze—a depth that spoke of battles won, losses endured, and wisdom earned through centuries of rule.

“Brother,” I acknowledged with a respectful nod. The formal address wasn’t just protocol—it was genuine respect for the Shadow Lord who’d taught me that power without purpose was merely destruction.

“Hakan.” His tone of voice carried that familiar authority, but there was warmth there, too. “I trust our cousins are providing their usual…supportive commentary on your domestic arrangements?”

He surveyed the demonic cousins with mock disappointment. “Azra, still compensating with extra shadow tentacles, I see. And Rezen—looking particularly murderous today.”

Azra bristled. “Lord Kaan, we were merely?—”

“Merely terrorizing my baby brother’s new wife? How delightfully predictable.” Kaan examined his nails with exaggerated boredom.

He turned to me with mock concern. “Please tell me they at least updated their material. The ‘writhing shadows of doom’ routine was stale when I was your age.”

“They question whether Ada’s light might be…problematic.” I fought back a grin.

“Problematic?” Kaan’s eyebrows rose in horror. “Light magic? In a Shadow Court? Whatever will we do? Next, you’ll tell me she expects to eat food instead of consuming the tears of our enemies. The scandal! Walk with me,” Kaan said to me, the request couched as the mild suggestion it wasn’t.

We stepped onto a private balcony overlooking the Shadow Court’s gardens. His demeanor shifted slightly—still amused, but with an undertone of genuine care.

“The cousins aren’t wrong to be concerned,” he said, “though their presentation lacks my natural flair for dramatic timing. Combining light and shadow is…complex. The magic doesn’t always respond as expected. Sometimes it creates beautiful twilight effects. Sometimes it explodes. Depends on your technique.”

“You speak from experience?” I caught something in his tone.

A shadow of old pain crossed his features. It was so brief I might have imagined it. “Experience teaches many lessons, brother. Some are more costly than others. Others are more…architecturally destructive. Did you know it’s possible to accidentally redecorate an entire wing of a palace with pure magical force? My wife was very understanding about it. Eventually.”

“Ada isn’t a weapon to be wielded,” I said firmly.

“No,” he agreed, and there was approval in his tone. “She’s something far more valuable—a partner who chose you not despite your darkness, but because she sees the light, you’re capable of creating with it. Also, she didn’t immediately try to stab you, which shows excellent judgment.”

“Is that your standard for relationships now?”

“You’d be surprised how many people begin courtship attempts with assassination. It’s become quite the trend. Very romantic.” His smile turned genuine. “But seriously, brother—protect her. Protect what you’re building together. The future has a way of surprising us all. Usually when we’re least prepared and wearing our worst ceremonial robes.”

With that cryptic advice, he clasped my shoulder briefly and headed back toward the great hall, but not before calling out cheerfully: “Cousins! I trust we’ll have no more discussions about problematic light magic? Because I have some very creative ideas about what’s truly problematic, and most of them involve long-term residency in my more…artistic…dungeon cells.”

I followed him back inside, where the demonic cousins nodded hastily as Kaan swept past them with characteristic grandeur.

As if summoned by our conversation, Ada entered with Sarp and Melo at her heels. She moved gracefully in her simple grey dress, practical rather than ornate, but somehow managed to make even that look regal. I took a sharp intake of breath, attempting to steady my damned racing heart. She made me instantly hard, forbidden memories flooding back, and I had to force myself not to let her feel what was happening to me through our bond. Light seemed to follow her, illuminating darkness that wasn’t meant to be disturbed.

My cousins tensed at her presence, their instinctive hatred of light warring with curiosity, but I chuckled. They all feared her. Ada ignored them completely, engaging Sarp in animated conversation as if demonic royalty weren’t present.

Kaan watched her with curious intensity rather than fear, clearly unsure whether to laugh or run. “Your bride has remarkable composure, brother. Most people start crying or fainting by now. It’s refreshing. Do you know how tedious itgets when everyone keeps passing out during conversations? Terrible, for productivity.”

He approached Ada with fluid grace. “The light within you is strong, Lady Ada. Stronger than most realize, I suspect. Also, excellent posture. I appreciate proper spine alignment in my sisters-in-law. Shows character.”

Ada blinked, clearly trying to process this. “Thank you… Lord Kaan. I’ve heard much about you.”

“All terrible things, I hope? I work very hard on my reputation. If people start saying nice things about me, I’ll have to execute someone just to maintain my image. Do you have any enemies you’d like eliminated? Wedding gift from your new brother-in-law?”

“That’s…very generous,” Ada managed.

I caught the slight twitch of her lips.

“I’m known for my generosity. Just ask anyone in my dungeon. Well, you can’t ask them because most of them can’t speak anymore, but I’m sure they’d agree if they could.” He paused thoughtfully. “Actually, some of them can still nod. We could arrange a survey.”