Page 28 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin (The Nightfire Quartet #4)

TWENTY-SEVEN

Zarya continued wandering through the vanshaj wing, consulting Urvi’s map. It had been almost ten minutes, and it was nearly time to return to Rabin. She’d just explore a little further and turn back.

She rounded another corner, and her breath caught. Her vision tilted, and her blood chilled as she stared down the length of a hall. Lightheaded, she clutched the wall for balance at the disorienting sensation of déjà vu.

This was it. She was sure of it. Her gaze traveled over the pale stones and the tapestries hanging on the wall—threadbare and faded, worn by time and neglect.

She took a tentative step as if knowing she was crossing a threshold into a place from which she could never return. Whatever lay at the end of this hall might change everything. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, warning her to be cautious, but she couldn’t stop. She had to see what lay beyond.

With one hand still pressed to the wall, she slowly made her way down the abandoned corridor. One foot in front of the other. Her hand brushed a tapestry, churning up a cloud of dust as the delicate, rotted threads crumbled under her touch.

She rubbed the dry fibers between her fingers.

They felt like an omen, a sign that everything was about to fall apart.

She stared down the hall again. With every step, it felt like the light was growing darker. Her knees were weak and her throat dry, and she swallowed hard as she limped along the corridor.

At the end stood a thin wooden door with a rusted handle. She reached for it slowly, both eager and dreading what she might find on the other side. Her emotions wobbled between fear and anticipation when it clicked softly under her touch.

She flattened a hand to the surface and pushed, revealing a stone staircase spiraling up into yet another tower. She’d done this dozens of times over the past few days, ending in only disappointment.

But as she placed her foot on the bottom step, something told her this time would be different.

She looked back. It had now been longer than the promised ten minutes, and she expected Rabin to appear around the corner at any moment. She should turn back, but curiosity was eating her alive.

She closed her eyes and conjured the dream of her mother, reliving the fear and the terror. The loneliness of that place. It couldn’t be real. She looked up the stairs.

But what if it was?

Zarya took another step, breaking through the last of her hesitations. She spiraled up, winding along the narrow column as the air grew crisp and her breath condensed in soft puffs.

Finally, she reached a landing and another door, this one made of heavy iron, banded with more iron, and secured with heavy bolts.

Her heart climbed into her throat.

She crossed the landing slowly, the floor cold under her slippered feet. She tried the handle, not surprised when it offered no give. Swallowing her nerves, she filtered out a thread of air magic into the lock, prodding the mechanism until it clicked with an echo that seemed to ricochet throughout the entire castle.

Then she reached for the handle and turned.

The door swung open on oiled hinges, suggesting they were the only thing cared for in this neglected tower. That overwhelming sense of déjà vu hit her again as it revealed a round room with windows overlooking a snowy landscape.

And in the corner…

A woman.

Zarya blinked as her heart beat with such force that her vision swam. She clung to the door for support, sure her knees were about to melt out from under her.

She inhaled several deep breaths through her nose, willing her pulse to settle. Bile crept up the back of her throat, and her limbs trembled.

Finally, she managed to take a step and then another before she crossed the room and fell to her knees. The woman huddled against the wall, hugging her legs to her chest. She was whispering something over and over that Zarya couldn’t make out.

She wore only a threadbare shift and was so thin that bones jutted from her joints at alarming angles. A tray sat beside her with a bowl of congealing rice swarming with a cloud of fruit flies.

The woman didn’t move except for the barest flutter of her rattling breath and her lips chanting something in a ragged whisper.

Zarya lifted a hand to reach her and then stopped.

She didn’t want to frighten Asha. Did she know Zarya was here?

“Hello?” she whispered softly. “Are you okay?”

As soon as the question left her mouth, Zarya cursed. Obviously, she wasn’t okay. Obviously, she’d been locked in here and forgotten, left to starve in the cold.

Zarya swallowed down the acid in her throat as she crawled around the woman to get a better look at her face.

She’d already known what she would find. The dreams had already told her.

But there was no mistaking this was the same woman she’d seen in the drawing in Row’s study. She really did look just like Zarya, down to that line between her eyebrows that always appeared when she was worried.

Zarya exhaled a choked breath. She’d hoped she’d just been dreaming. She’d hoped this wasn’t real. But what did any of this mean?

“Mother,” Zarya whispered, and the word seemed to hang in the air, suspended between them like something plucked from the threads of fate. “What has he done to you?”

Because she knew this was him. Abishek . Row’s warnings came rushing back. All this time, he’d been right. Anyone who could do something like this was evil. What could her mother possibly have done to warrant such naked cruelty?

“Mother?” she asked, suddenly feeling like a small child as tears pressed into her throat. She’d spent every single day of her life wishing for a mother. For a family to call her own. Her mother was dead. She’d lived her entire life shaped by that truth, but now here she was, returned from the grave.

But only barely.

How was she even alive at all?

Asha stopped whispering and looked up at Zarya, distant recognition reflecting in the depths of her eyes.

“Mother,” Zarya said. “It’s me, Zarya. I don’t know what’s happened or why you’re here, but I will get you out.”

She wasn’t sure why or how she believed that, but at that moment, it suddenly seemed more important than anything.

Asha blinked again, her brow furrowing. Zarya stared at her. Her eyes were brown with flecks of green, just like Zarya’s. There was something so infinitely sad buried in their depths that she felt her heart crack and leak between her ribs. She wanted to hug her. Wrap her in her arms and protect her until the end of her days.

“Row,” Asha whispered. “Row.”

That’s when Zarya realized that’s what she’d been repeating.

Row.

Gods, her heart hurt so much it felt like it would burst. Had Asha been trapped here for decades, missing him? She wanted to tell her that Row still loved her. That he searched every corner of Rahajhan trying to find her, refusing to believe she was gone.

How would Row react when he learned the truth?

“Mother,” she whispered, her voice cracking. It was the only thing she could manage. “Mother.”

She was here. She was alive. How would they get her out? Abishek had clearly locked her up here for twenty years for a reason. But why ?

That’s when a noise drew Zarya’s attention. Someone was coming up the stairs. At first, she thought it must be Rabin returning to find her, but the echo of dozens of footsteps floated up the tower as a shiver crept down her spine.

Slowly, she stood, gathering her magic, her anchors spinning in her heart. She stepped in front of her mother, shielding her. She would never let anyone hurt this woman again. She didn’t care what she’d done. She didn’t care what had happened. She would do everything in her power to bring her home.

Dark shadows swirled at her fingertips, prepared to strike as the footsteps drew nearer and nearer.

Zarya inhaled a sharp breath as Abishek, Kishore, and about two dozen of his royal guards appeared on the landing.

“Zarya,” Abishek said. “What are you doing here?” He stepped into the room while the others hung back. She held onto her magic, assessing the situation. She was devoid of weapons, and this was her only defense.

“Where’s Rabin?” she asked.

“He’s waiting for you in my study,” Abishek said. “Why don’t you come with me, and we can go and see him?”

His voice was light, but she was sure she caught a flash of mania in his eyes. Something was up beyond the secret she’d just uncovered in this room.

“Why do you have her locked up in here?” Zarya asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Why have you treated her this way?”

Abishek sighed. “I didn’t want you to learn the truth like this.”

She frowned as her fingers clawed in, clinging to her magic.

“What truth ?”

Abishek took another step, and Zarya looked down at Asha lying by her feet. She stared at Abishek with horror in her eyes, her face turning even paler.

“Oh, Zarya,” he said. “I knew.”

He took another step as Zarya’s chest grew tight. She shook her head.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

He took another step until he was nearly upon her. She couldn’t move or think.

Her breath stuck in her chest like wet sand.

“Knew what?”

“That you existed from the very beginning.”

And then, he lifted a hand.

Zarya flung out her magic, but it was already too late.

Smoke filled her eyes and lungs and mouth, and then everything went black.