Page 24 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin (The Nightfire Quartet #4)

TWENTY-THREE

With their relationship out in the open, there was no further need to maintain pretenses. Thus, Zarya moved her things into Rabin’s room.

They shared a quiet dinner by the fire as the weather turned, a blizzard sweeping over the mountains with driving gusts of snow and howling winds.

“Maybe it was a good thing we didn’t try to fly in this,” Zarya said, gesturing outside.

“Hmm,” Rabin responded as he stared out the window. He’d been even more quiet since their meeting with Kishore.

“You okay?” she asked and turned towards him.

“I’m fine,” he said again before sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. “It’s killing me to know that this incredible thing that brought us together is tainted. It’s my fault—I’m the one who insisted we do this.”

“No,” Zarya said, shaking her head. “We aren’t doing that. The resistance needed us, and I wanted it, too. This was a decision we made together. You didn’t force me into anything.” She reached out a hand and squeezed his wrist. “It’s only the magic. Nothing between us has changed.”

He cocked a small smile, his gaze raking over her. “I just can’t shake the feeling Kishore isn’t being completely honest with us.”

“He does seem rather weaselly,” she remarked. “Do you know him well?”

“Not especially. He’s always been around, but he mostly sticks with Abishek. I get the sense that he thinks he’s too good for everyone else. He has his own workshop in another part of the castle where he spends most of his time.”

“Has he ever given you a reason to distrust him?”

“No,” Rabin said. “He’s the one who did this.” He gestured towards the dragon under his kurta.

“And you trust my father?”

Rabin stared at her for several long seconds. “I do. He’s grown fond of you and wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

She smiled. “Then let’s take care of this, and we’ll be on our way.”

After dinner, they prepared for bed. She stripped out of her dress and stood before the mirror, turning to examine her inked dragon, its sheen of iridescence barely visible in the falling light.

Rabin came up behind her, also bare down to his underwear. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him before brushing aside her hair to expose her shoulder.

He leaned down to kiss the dragon on her skin.

“Rabin,” she said. “Do you feel it? The taint? Be honest with me.”

He was silent for several moments, his expression suggesting he’d gone into himself. Then he shook his head. “Sometimes, I think I feel it. Like an echo that wasn’t there before. But then I wonder if I’m imagining it.”

“It’s changed, though,” she said. “I don’t feel anything in the marking itself, but our connection is different.”

He sighed. “It is. I suppose that must be what we’re feeling.”

“I don’t like it. I want to head back to Ishaan, but I also want this fixed.”

“We’ll fix it,” he said as he turned her to face him. His hand swept over her hip and settled on her lower back. “This is nothing we can’t handle. We’ll allow Kishore to work his magic, and everything will be fine.”

“I’m worried about you.”

He smirked. “I’ve been through a lot worse, Spitfire. It’ll take a lot more than that to kill me.”

She sighed as he leaned in to suck on the curve of her neck, then he took her hand and tugged her towards the bed. “Now we don’t have to hide this anymore, and I’m about to have my way with you in my bed.”

She giggled as he tossed her down and then landed on top of her before they lost themselves in each other.

That night, Zarya dreamed of her mother again.

Only it was different. She was wandering the corridors of a dark castle that felt familiar, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. She traversed a narrow hall of dark stones lined with faded tapestries, their threads nearly leached of color.

A sound echoed in the distance, but she couldn’t determine its source. It was both soft and sharp, like a hammer striking nails against the backdrop of leaves whispering in the wind.

She noticed the cold stones beneath her feet and the air chilling her skin, sending a shiver skating down her back. In the dream, she was propelled forward. Even when she stopped walking, the scene continued to move, finding her at the bottom of a winding staircase spiraling up into the darkness.

She saw her hand grip the railing, the metal cold as ice, and then she ascended smoothly, almost like she was floating. As she wound higher, the air grew colder, freezing in her lungs, nipping the tips of her ears and nose with the sharp, burning sensation of frostbite.

She reached the door she’d come to recognize, and without pausing, she pushed it open to reveal the same circular room and her mother huddled in the corner, shivering violently. Zarya choked on a sob as she tried to reach for Asha, but the closer she moved, the further the scene retreated.

Zarya stopped and stared at her mother’s huddling form. At the bruises and lacerations marring her skin. She couldn’t look away from her hair hanging knotted and lined with strands of white, nor her threadbare clothing or dirty bare feet with their jagged, torn nails.

“Mother,” Zarya tried to call, but nothing came out. She felt herself say it, but she couldn’t hear it. She wanted to scream in frustration, stomp on the floor, and pound on the walls until this entire room collapsed.

A movement caught her eye, and she turned towards the corner as a new sense of premonition climbed up the back of her scalp.

There were windows in this tower.

Though her subconscious had always known this, she’d never paid attention until now. She approached the nearest one with her heart wedged in her throat until she peered over the edge, taking in the sight before her.

Mountains and snow. Pine trees and endless grey rocks. She knew this view. She’d looked upon it every night before she’d gone to sleep, ever since the day they’d landed on a high tower painted with a dragon in Andhera.

Her stomach dropped as she stumbled towards the wall and then blinked.

Her eyes flew open, and she sat straight up in bed with a gasp. She was covered in sweat, her pulse racing.

“Zarya,” came Rabin’s deep voice. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head as she tried to catch her breath.

“Zarya? Are you okay?” He placed a hand on her back. “What’s going on?”

“I…had another dream. About my mother.”

He watched her, clearly sensing there was more.

“It was different,” she said. “I saw more of it. I was in a castle, and it seemed familiar. I still couldn’t reach her, but I looked out the window.”

“The window?” he asked.

“Snow. I saw snow and mountains.”

“Zarya, what are you saying?”

Her mouth opened, and she huffed out a sharp breath. “I don’t know. I think…she was here. I think he put her in that tower.”

“Zarya, it’s just a dream. Of course you’d see this place. This is where you’ve been living for weeks.”

She shook her head and clutched her throat.

“I don’t think it was just a dream,” she said. “It felt…like something else.”

He shifted closer, leaning in as he grabbed her chin between his fingers. “Zarya, what are you saying?”

She looked up at him and blinked. “I’m saying that either he locked her in that tower at some point…or…she’s still there.”