Page 84 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

“The old ways—” one cultist began.

“Are forbidden,” Hakan cut him off. “As you well know.”

His gaze found me then, kneeling on the stone floor, light magic still flickering weakly around me. Something flashed across his face—concern? Fear? It was gone too quickly to identify.

With a gesture that seemed almost casual, Hakan’s shadows lashed out, encircling each cultist in bonds of darkness that drew screams of agony from their throats.

“Take them to the dungeons,” he ordered. The guards appeared behind him. “I’ll deal with them later.”

“The eastern cells?” Sarp asked, voice tight with controlled anger. “The ones warded specifically for blood magic practitioners?”

“Yes,” Hakan confirmed. “And post our most loyal guards. No one speaks to them without my authorization.”

When the cultists were dragged away, Hakan crossed to where I still knelt, unable to find the strength to stand. He reached for me, then hesitated, his hand hovering inches from my shoulder.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, voice unexpectedly gentle.

“The child,” I managed. “Is she?—?”

“Safe,” he assured me. “I found her in the street. She led me here.”

Relief washed through me, followed immediately by exhaustion. My light flickered once more and then faded entirely, plunging us into darkness broken only by the ambient glow of Hakan’s shadows.

Without warning, he lifted me into his arms. I should have protested, should have pushed him away, but my body refused to cooperate. Instead, I found myself sagging into his chest, my head resting on his shoulder.

"Why?" I murmured while he carried me from the tower. "Why did you come?"

His arms tightened around me. "I felt your absence through the binding," he said after a moment. "It woke me. Then I felt your distress."

"And I was already awake researching alternatives to the solstice ritual," Sarp added, and followed behind us. "And we've found promising leads in the ancient texts."

"Enough, Sarp," Hakan said quietly, but not unkindly.

"The ritual," I persisted. I fought to stay conscious. "They were going to kill that child. They said it was necessary…for the Shadow Realm's strength." I forced myself to look up at him. "Is that true? Do you allow such things?"

His jaw tightened. "No," he said with conviction. "Child sacrifice was banned when I took power. These were remnants of my father's court, clinging to old ways."

"But similar rituals happen," I pressed. "You can't deny it."

He was silent while we moved through the dark streets of the shadow city, palace-bound. When he spoke, his voice was measured. "The Shadow Realm requires power to maintain its boundaries, its existence. Sacrifices of energy must be made. But never children. Not anymore. Not while I rule."

“The transition from your father’s reign has not been…smooth,” Sarp offered. “Some factions resist change, especially those who benefited from the old ways.”

We reached the palace, passing through the same unguarded gate I’d escaped through earlier. Guards snapped to attention, carefully avoiding Hakan’s gaze. I suspected they would face his wrath later for their lapse in security.

He carried me to his chambers, laying me carefully on the bed. Instead of moving away, he sat beside me, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

“I’ll continue the research, Hakan,” Sarp said from the doorway. “Seven days should be enough to translate the eastern scrolls.”

“Do it,” Hakan ordered without looking away from me. “And Sarp—no interruptions tonight.”

Sarp nodded and withdrew, closing the door silently behind him.

“Why do you care?” Hakan asked suddenly. “About a shadow child? She’s not of your realm, not of your kind.”

The question took me back to Kiraz’s birth—to the moment I’d first held her, stared into her eyes that were so like her father’s. The love I’d felt then had been immediate, overwhelming, transcending any boundaries of realm or kind.

“All children deserve protection,” I said, and chose my words carefully. “Regardless of where they come from.”

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