Daughter of Obsidian

#2

Chapter Two – The Stranger in the Shadows

The ballroom had never felt so loud.

Gasps and whispers ricocheted off the marble walls, buzzing like wasps in Mavi’s ears. She stood in the center of it all, the silver-lit feather still cold in her hand, her pulse hammering like a war drum. The raven was gone, vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving only the memory of its piercing gaze.

People were already inventing stories.

“Did you see? It landed right above her.”

“A curse, surely—her family was always touched by darkness.”

“No, it was an omen. For her marriage, perhaps…”

Their voices slithered through the air, each word another chain around her chest. Mavi forced her lips into a delicate smile, but her hand trembled as she curled it over the feather, hiding the glow. If anyone saw it—if anyone guessed what it truly was—her carefully constructed life would collapse in a breath.

She excused herself with a curtsey and slipped through the crowd, ignoring the speculative stares that burned hotter than candle flames.

The music swelled again behind her as she escaped into the side corridor, its shadows wrapping around her like a cloak. The air here was cooler, scented faintly of stone and rain instead of perfume. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and pressed her back against the wall, shutting her eyes.

Calm. She needed calm.

But the moment her lids closed, images assaulted her—fire roaring, black wings unfurling, her mother’s scream vanishing into smoke. She snapped her eyes open with a gasp. The feather in her hand pulsed faintly, a heartbeat that was not her own.

“You shouldn’t linger here alone.”

The voice slid into the air as though it had always been there. Low, velvet, carrying the weight of command.

Mavi spun, her skirts flaring, and found him.

He leaned in the archway opposite her, half-wreathed in shadow. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His suit was cut in the style of old nobility—midnight fabric, high collar—but the way he wore it was almost careless, as if finery was a costume he tolerated. A single strand of black hair fell over eyes that glimmered silver, catching the torchlight like a predator’s.

Her throat went dry. She had never seen him before, yet something about him thrummed with familiarity.

“I am not alone,” she said quickly, clutching the feather to her chest. “My friends are waiting for me.”

The corner of his mouth curved, though it was not a smile. “Your friends are too busy whispering about the girl with the raven.”

Mavi’s stomach tightened. “You were watching.”

“Of course.” He pushed away from the arch, his movements smooth, deliberate, like water flowing downhill. “How could I not, when the Obsidian Court calls so loudly?”

The words hit her like a blow. She froze, her breath caught in her lungs. “What did you say?”

“The Court remembers its daughter.” His eyes flicked to the hand pressed against her chest, as if he could see straight through silk and flesh to the feather’s glow. “And so do its keepers.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, though her voice trembled. “You’re mistaken. My family—my parents—they’re gone. And whatever you think you saw, it was only a bird.”

For the first time, his expression softened—not with kindness, but with something dangerously close to pity. “You’ve been told lies, Mavi Altınkaya. Lies to keep you blind. But shadows don’t lie, and tonight they answered.”

Her knees threatened to give beneath her. No one outside her closest circle even dared to use her name so directly, not with that tone, that certainty. And certainly no stranger should have known what her shadows did last night—how they had rippled at her feet like water stirred by a storm.

“Stay away from me,” she whispered, forcing steel into her voice. “Or I’ll scream.”

He tilted his head, studying her like one might a flame that could either warm or consume. “Scream, then. Do you think they’ll believe it? The cursed heiress crying about shadows? No. They’ll only tighten the chains they’ve already wrapped around you.”

Her breath hitched. Rage flared bright and sharp, cutting through the fear. She wanted to slap him, to banish that knowing calm from his face. But beneath the anger was a traitorous pull—a gravity that drew her closer even as her mind screamed to flee.

“Why are you telling me this?” she demanded.

“Because you deserve the truth,” he said simply. “And because soon, you’ll need me.”

The corridor seemed to darken as he stepped forward. The air grew colder, the shadows deepening as if they leaned toward him. Her heart pounded, but she didn’t move—not when his silver eyes locked with hers, not when every instinct screamed danger.

He stopped only a breath away, his presence overwhelming. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his hand—not to touch her, but to gesture toward the feather still clutched in her fist.

“Keep it close,” he murmured. “It’s more than a gift. It’s a key.”

Before she could speak, before she could even breathe, the torches along the wall guttered, plunging the corridor into darkness. Her pulse surged in panic, but then the flames flared back to life—empty.

He was gone.

Mavi staggered against the wall, her chest heaving. Only the feather remained, glowing faintly in her palm, its silver light pulsing like a heartbeat.

A key.

But a key to what?