"I absolutely will not get used to it." But Sarp was grinning now — the real grin, not the performance one. He straightened slowly, keeping his hands visible, and gave Melo a bow so exaggerated it bordered on mockery. "My sincerest apologies, madam. I had no idea I was in such distinguished company."
Melo's ears flattened. But she didn't growl again. And when Sarp fell back into step with us, she let him walk on my other side without protest — which, from Melo, was practically a declaration of trust.
"Speaking of business—Asif was asking about you at breakfast, Ada. Something about wanting to discuss the upcoming festival arrangements. He seemed very eager to speak with you. Personally. Alone."
The temperature in the corridor dropped several degrees.
I felt Hakan go rigid beside me, his shadows suddenly writhing at his feet like living things. "Asif," he repeated, his voice dangerously soft.
"You remember Asif. Tall, blond, that irritating smile. Son of Lord?—"
"I know who Asif is."
I remembered him too. We'd grown up together at court, attended the same tutors, danced at the same festivals. Before Hakan, there had been whispers that my father might arrange a match between us. Nothing had ever come of it, but Asif had always looked at me with a particular kind of hunger that made my skin crawl.
"He probably just wants to discuss the decorations," I said, trying to defuse the situation. "His mother is on the planning committee."
"Then his mother can discuss it with you." Hakan's jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscles jumping. "He doesn't need to speak with you personally. Or alone."
Sarp was watching the exchange with undisguised delight. "You know, I think I saw him heading toward the great hall. He mentioned something about intercepting you on your way to the healers' wing."
"Sarp," I hissed. "You're not helping."
"I'm never helping. I'm observing and commentating. It's far more entertaining."
We rounded the corner into the main corridor—and there was Asif, leaning against the wall as if he'd been waiting. His face lit up when he saw me, and he pushed off the stone to intercept our path.
"Ada! I was hoping to catch you." His smile was wide, practiced, and directed entirely at me. He barely glanced at Hakan. "I've been meaning to speak with you about the midsummer arrangements. Perhaps we could take a walk in the gardens? Like we used to?"
The silence that followed was deafening.
I felt Hakan's shadows expanding before I saw them—tendrils of darkness bleeding from his skin, coiling around his feet, reaching toward Asif with unmistakable menace. The torches along the corridor flickered and dimmed.
Asif finally seemed to notice Hakan's presence. His smile faltered. "Ah. Bürsin. I didn't see you there."
"Clearly." Hakan's voice was ice. "Otherwise you wouldn't have approached my woman and suggested a private walk."
"Your woman?" Asif’s laugh was nervous now, his eyes darting to the shadows pooling at Hakan's feet. "I wasn't aware Ada had become property to be claimed."
"Then allow me to clarify."
Hakan moved faster than I could track. One moment he was beside me; the next, he had Asif pinned against the wall, shadows coiling around the other man's throat like serpents.Asif’s feet dangled several inches off the ground, his face rapidly purpling.
"If you look at her again," Hakan said, his voice terrifyingly calm, "I will remove your eyes. If you speak to her without my permission, I will remove your tongue. If you so much as think about touching her—" The shadows tightened, and Asif made a strangled, choking sound. "I will remove pieces of you that won't grow back. Do we understand each other?"
Asif couldn't respond—couldn't do anything but claw uselessly at the shadows crushing his windpipe.
"Hakan." I stepped forward, placing my hand on his arm. "Enough."
For a moment, I thought he wouldn't listen. The shadows continued to squeeze, and Asif’s lips were turning blue, and there was something in Hakan's eyes that looked almost like pleasure?—
Then he released his grip, and Asif crumpled to the floor, gasping and retching.
"Spread the word," Hakan said, looking down at the broken man at his feet with contempt. "Ada is mine. Anyone who forgets that answers to me."
He turned, took my hand, and continued down the corridor as if nothing had happened.
Sarp fell into step behind us, letting out a low whistle. "Well. That was dramatic."