Page 41 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

“But make no mistake—your bleeding heart will get you killed in this court. Perhaps you should worry less about saving others and more about saving yourself.”

He turned and left, dragging his cousin’s limp form into the shadows. Guards materialized to escort me back to my chambers, where Melo waited anxiously.

I told her everything—the laboratory, the children, Hakan’s icy response.

“He’s going to continue using them, isn’t he?” Melo asked grimly.

“Yes.” The single word tasted like ash. “Different master, same purpose.”

Melo paced agitatedly. “And Azad?”

“Will surely wish for death before Hakan is finished with him,” I remembered the casual cruelty with which Hakan had tortured his cousin. “But not out of mercy for the children. Only because Azad tried to undermine him.”

I moved to the window, looking out at the deceptively peaceful gardens. “I thought…for one moment, when he ordered healers for the children… I thought perhaps…”

“That there was something human in him after all?” Melo finished softly.

“Maybe not human,” I said slowly. “But something…different. Something I recognized from before.” I turned to face her, determination rising through my exhaustion. “It doesn’t change anything. We still need to escape. We still need to get to Kiraz.”

“And now we know the Shadow Court has deeper fractures than we realized,” Melo observed. “Azad’s betrayal, these factions forming around Hakan…we might be able to use that.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “If we’re careful.” I touched the window glass and traced a protective rune with my fingertip. “And I need to contact Tolga again. If Azad was researching ancient prophecies, I need to know which ones. There might be something there about the light and shadow bloodlines.”

“You think this connects to Kiraz somehow?” Melo asked, alarmed.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But Azad wanted vessels of innocence to please Erlik. Children with shadow essence integration. The specificity of that requirement…” I trailed off, not voicing my fears about what that might mean for any child with both light and shadow heritage.

“We’ll figure it out,” Melo promised, and squeezed my hand. “We always do. What now?”

I turned from the window, resolve hardening within me. “Now we keep searching for a way out. And we remember exactly who and what we’re dealing with.”

“And what about the children?” she asked softly.

“I’ll find a way to help them, too,” I promised. “The same magic that protects…” I caught myself. “The same protective magic I’ve studied might offer some solution. If shadow essence can be infused, perhaps it can also be contained or redirected.”

The afternoon sun was setting by the time I finally allowed myself to rest, my mind replaying that moment in the laboratory—Hakan kneeling before the shadow-corrupted girl, something almost like tenderness in his voice when he spoke her name. For five years, I’d held on to my hatred like a shield, convincing myself the man I loved was gone forever. That certainty had protected me, had given me the strength to keep my child hidden and safe.

But what if I was wrong? What if fragments of the real Hakan remained, buried beneath layers of shadow and ambition? The possibility terrified me more than his darkness ever could. Hope was a luxury I couldn’t afford—not with my daughter’s safety at stake.

Yet as darkness fell outside my window, listening to the whisper of shadows beyond the glass, I couldn’t shake the image of his hand hovering protectively over that child. Couldn’t forget the way his voice had gentled when he’d spoken her name.

Perhaps the man I had loved wasn’t entirely gone. Perhaps somewhere beneath the monster he had become, a sliver of his humanity remained.

And perhaps that small hope would be the most dangerous thing of all.

Hakan

“Midas is here.” Sarp materialized at my side. “In the east chamber, drinking your best wine and looking insufferably pleased with himself.”

“Fucking perfect timing,” I muttered. “Just what I needed—another power-hungry shadow lord breathing down my neck.”

As we made our way through the corridors, a woman’s angry voice cut through the silence. In an alcove stood a woman with wild auburn hair, dressed in clothes too colorful for the Shadow Court, jabbing a finger at a nervous servant.

“Don’t tell me it’s gone,” she demanded, and swayed slightly. “I had half a bottle left.”

“Lady Martha,” the servant stammered, “orders from above?—”

“The palace guards can go fuck themselves,” she spit. When she noticed me, she straightened with exaggerated formality and offered a mocking curtsy. “My lord Shadow Prince. Come to watch the court whore making a scene?”

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