Page 15 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin (The Nightfire Quartet #4)
FOURTEEN
A few nights after the party, Zarya awoke to the sound of dishes clinking and a pale, cold light. Her head throbbed, almost like she’d drunk too much wine, but she hadn’t touched a drop in days. Her first thought was to wonder if the Bandhan was affecting her, too.
After Rabin dragged her out of the room, he refused to say anything. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him that angry before.
He’d begged her to spar, and so they’d changed into their training leathers, and he’d dragged her up to that godforsaken mountaintop where they’d fought until they nearly collapsed.
When they’d had enough, they stumbled into his bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. Zarya half expected Abishek to storm into the room that very morning and demand to know why they’d left the party, but she hadn’t seen him in days.
It seemed he was keeping his distance, and after he’d very obviously tried to set her up with Amir, she didn’t mind. But perhaps she wasn’t being fair. For all Abishek knew, Zarya was available, and their own deception led him to that conclusion. She still didn’t appreciate being blindsided and wished he’d asked her about it first.
That left them with little to do as they awaited Kishore’s return. Zarya had even lost interest in the library after hours of searching had turned up nothing. Her only solace became time spent sparring with Rabin and Ekaja and the afternoons she stole into the city, where she continued breaking the collars of anyone willing.
After the day was done, she’d sit with Dav and Suria, who loved hearing her stories about the Rising Phoenix in Ishaan. In return, she loved hearing them talk about a future that looked very different than the one they had all accepted.
A democracy, they called it. Where representatives from every group had a voice, and the people all had the opportunity to vote on decisions that affected them. It sounded perfect. But it also sounded like a far-off dream.
With each passing day, Zarya slept later and later.
Dreams and nightmares plagued her slumber, interrupted by long bouts of insomnia, during which she stood at the tall, cold windows with her arms folded around her, staring at the still landscape, contemplating a thousand things.
Her thoughts were filled with smoke and fire. Screaming and death. She saw flashes of those demon armies marching over scarred, scorched earth, everything in their path left in smoldering piles of ruin and destruction.
She’d toss and turn until she finally collapsed from exhaustion sometime in the early hours of the morning. Occasionally, she’d cross the hall to find Rabin and take comfort in the warmth of his arms, but other nights, she’d stew in her loneliness, trying not to burden him as he continued to struggle with his health.
This morning, she rubbed her temples as her head throbbed. She sat up and blinked the sleep from her eyes. Urvi stood at the other end of the room, quietly laying food on the small table before the fire.
When she noticed Zarya was awake, she smiled. “I’ve brought lunch.”
“Thank you,” Zarya said as she pushed off her blankets. The room was cold despite the fire. The wind howled against the windowpanes, and the snow fell at an angle, swirling in gusts.
“It’s a miserable day,” Urvi added. “Perfect for curling up by the fire with a good book and some warm chai.”
To prove her point, she held up a mug for Zarya, who pulled a thick robe over her pajamas and belted it around her waist before stuffing her feet into a pair of slippers by the bed.
Zarya accepted the tea and sank onto the divan, sipping it as she stared at the crackling logs. She thought of the fireplace back home in the seaside cottage and how they’d rarely ever had the occasion to use it. She smiled as she thought of how much Row had missed the north. She also realized she’d just referred to the cottage as home without it calling up a rash of bitter memories. My, how so many things had changed.
She heard Urvi moving about the room as she nursed the warm mug, holding it between her cold hands and again thinking of the other night.
Why had Abishek tried to ambush her with Amir instead of just being upfront? She could have headed off any notions that she was available or was open to having any part of her future decided for her.
When Rabin had intervened, he’d read the situation correctly, and it had probably taken every ounce of his restraint not to pick Amir by the collar and hurl him off one of the castle’s high balconies.
He obviously loathed Amir in a way that felt personal, and she wondered if they had any sort of history. When she’d asked, Rabin had clammed up, and she decided not to push it.
It was a little possessive and over-the-top, but Zarya smiled anyway. She’d signed up for this when she’d bound herself to a man like Rabin.
Once Rabin had freed her from Amir’s clutches, he’d told her that Amir had been rumored to become Abishek’s heir, though he had no idea what the plans were now that Zarya was in the picture. He’d also told her Ekaja was Abishek’s stand-in until he made it official.
With no blood heirs—until now—he’d been waiting for the right Aazheri to come along. Ekaja preferred to remain in the role of his commander but had agreed to his request because she refused to let him down.
It didn’t matter either way. Zarya needed to return to Ishaan as soon as possible, and she wasn’t doing anything with Amir.
She planned to search for Abishek later to clear all of this up. Despite the strides they’d already made, he’d been her father for all of five minutes. He had no right to think he could govern her life or her choices.
“Is everything to your liking?” Urvi asked. “You haven’t touched your food.”
Zarya looked up, her gaze wandering to the line of stars around Urvi’s throat. Zarya also wanted to discuss the promised demonstration as soon as possible. They’d need to organize it quickly so as not to delay their departure any longer.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m not hungry.” Zarya sat up and gestured to the seat across from her. “Would you like to have a seat?”
“Why?” Urvi asked, confusion denting the space between her brows.
“I know nothing about you. I’d love to chat if you’re willing.”
The woman looked around the room like someone was about to catch her indulging in an illicit activity, but Zarya tried to affect a reassuring expression. She wanted to test the waters with Urvi but couldn’t ask about her collar outright. She also wanted to know more about this woman and what her life in Andhera had been like.
She understood her father was a ‘complicated’ man. That his relationship with the vanshaj was questionable, and despite his assurances that he respected the mission of the rebellion, he obviously regarded them as little more than furniture.
Urvi looked around the room again and then carefully made her way to the chair opposite Zarya.
“Can you tell me about your life in this castle? How long have you worked here?”
Zarya cringed at the deliberate terminology and the idea that she was a paid worker with the same rights and freedoms as one of Rahajhan’s free citizens. “Sorry,” Zarya said. “I don’t want to dishonor the role you play here. I understand that ‘worked’ isn’t the right way to describe your position in this castle and this kingdom. That you’re not here by choice.”
Urvi blinked, her expression crumpling with confusion. “Why are you saying such things?”
“Because someone needs to say them.”
Zarya schooled her expression into neutrality. She wanted to appear calm and sure of herself so Urvi might feel the same. Urvi watched her for several moments before she finally nodded slowly.
“Yes, I understand what you mean. There’s no polite way to describe it.”
“No, because this isn’t a polite situation. But hearing that makes people uncomfortable. Especially those with the most to lose should things ever change.”
“Change?” Urvi asked, her eyes widening. “I hear the rumors. Uprisings in Daragaab and Bhaavana. I’ve heard…”
She trailed off, her cheeks blushing pink as if she were afraid of even thinking about it.
“What have you heard?” Zarya asked.
“One of the kitchen maids has a cousin who lives in Ishaan. He sent a letter. That’s where you and your companions came from, yes? Lord Ravana? He was there as well?”
Zarya nodded. “Yes. And the stories are true.”
She paused, allowing her words to sink in.
Urvi blinked and then blinked again. “They say…they broke their collars.”
Zarya nodded. “And they have magic because you are Aazheri. And you always were.”
Horror crossed Urvi’s expression. “No. That is heresy. We are vanshaj. We have no magic. It is forbidden.”
“I know everyone keeps saying that. And I know that’s the story that’s been fed to everyone for a thousand years, but it isn’t true. The truth was stamped out. It was glossed over, and the lie was repeated so many times that everyone believed it. You do have magic, and there isn’t any reason you shouldn’t have access to it.”
She went on to tell the story they’d uncovered about the Jadugara as Urvi’s face grew paler and paler.
When she was done, Urvi nodded slowly as if rolling the words around her head for their truth. “And what are they like? Those who’ve been freed?”
“Like?” Zarya asked. “What do you mean?”
“Are they different ?”
“They’re the same people they always were. But they have more power. More strength. They have their freedom.”
“Do they?” Urvi asked. “Does the removal of the collar mean anything? Does it change the laws? Would it free me from this place? Could I marry anyone I choose? Live where I want?”
She swept out her arms to encompass their surroundings and blew out a long breath laden with a lifetime of exhaustion.
Zarya matched her weary sigh. “It’s a question I’ve been asking myself from the very beginning. The collars are only the first step on a long road. But it is a start.”
Urvi gave her a skeptical look, but Zarya wondered if she spotted the tiniest glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“I could break yours,” Zarya said carefully. “If you wanted. My magic was created for this purpose.”
Okay, that wasn’t really the case. Nightfire existed before the vanshaj if the stories were correct, but the prophecy suggested the magic had been given to her for this.
Urvi shook her head. “No. That is…no.”
She said it firmly, her eyes glossing over with the threat of tears. She jumped up, her hands balled into the fabric of her skirt. “I must go. I’ve lingered here long enough.”
“Wait,” Zarya said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”
But Urvi wouldn’t hear it. She stormed quickly out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Zarya stared at it, contemplating the endless challenges of this battle they were facing.
All of this would be so much harder than she’d hoped.