Page 29 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin (The Nightfire Quartet #4)

TWENTY-EIGHT

Yasen and Row explored the twisting vines and corridors of Amrita’s roots, assessing how deep the darkness had penetrated. They’d been down here for hours, searching the vast organic network, coming up on more bad news at every turn.

“We’re sure this didn’t happen last time?” Yasen asked as they crossed into a cavern where black rot crept up from the floor, stretching towards the ceiling. He spun around and shook his head. He couldn’t shake the feeling that a thousand invisible eyes were following them.

“I’m sure,” Row said. “Rani Vasvi’s roots were examined regularly. We would have noticed this.”

“Yeah,” Yasen said. “We did, too.” They crossed down another path to find more rot spreading in every direction. “Unless it was too insignificant to notice.”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Row said. “But the blight existed for decades. This started weeks ago. Even if we’d seen this last time, the rate of growth is alarming. Why is it moving so quickly?”

Yasen blew out a heavy breath. “Because something even worse is happening?”

Row exhaled a wry huff. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?”

“Do you think the swamp returned to the surface?” Yasen asked.

They rounded a corner, and Yasen nearly wept to find a patch of clear roots, pristine and nearly white, glowing with the pearlescent sheen.

He crossed the cavern, laying his hand on the line where the rot gave way to healthy roots. He’d never had rakshasa magic, but he still had the same connection to the earth’s plants and flowers. Though most people didn’t feel it, they gave off an energy specific to their strength and vitality.

Yasen felt it. The frequency telling him that Amrita was suffering. Maybe even dying.

“What will happen to the baby?” Yasen asked.

Row shook his head, pressing his mouth in a thin line. “We might need to call for Koura. But first, I think we should check the swamps.”

Yasen studied the ceiling, twisting with a network of roots and vines. “Do you think Vik knows about this?”

Their gazes met, neither wanting to voice their thoughts out loud.

It seemed impossible that Vikram could have missed this, but he wasn’t himself.

“Only one way to find out,” Row answered, his expression dark with worry.

When they entered the throne room, they discovered Vikram had returned to his apartments to lie down since he felt ill. He’d left behind a circle of armed guards, who stood watch over Amrita and her baby. They let Row and Yasen know that Vikram had invited them for supper later and that Row had indeed been pardoned from his transgression in the library.

Row pressed his hand together in thanks at that news, but Yasen was fairly certain he’d never intended to cooperate with his arrest.

Once they accepted Vik’s invitation, they prepared to visit the shoreline. Row held out his hand while Yasen wrinkled his nose. “Not this again.”

“You can stay here and do nothing if you prefer,” Row said rather pointedly.

He wasn’t a dick. In fact, he was a pretty decent guy, especially once you got to know him, but he also didn’t suffer fools.

“Fine,” Yasen said. He gripped Row’s hand, and a second later, it felt like someone was ripping out his spleen while also squeezing his organs to the point of rupture. Though Row claimed it took only seconds, it felt infinitely longer before they found themselves standing on the beach where Zarya had once lived.

Yasen inhaled a sharp breath at the sight, strangely moved to be standing here.

He’d heard Zarya talk about this place so many times but seeing it in person felt like glimpsing a piece of her soul. It felt especially strange to be here without her.

He stared out at the sea he knew she loved so much and the house where she’d felt like she was living in a cage. It was pleasant here. Pretty and calm. The breeze was fresh, and the greenery was lush, but it was lonely. He could understand why she’d hated it so much.

She wanted to be around people. She wanted to feel life. She wanted to feel everything .

“So, this is where you kept her, hey?” Yasen drawled.

“Don’t start with me,” Row grumbled as he turned and stalked towards the cottage.

“Weren’t you supposed to burn it down?” Yasen continued, but Row ignored the question as he passed the house and crossed into the trees.

“Rude,” Yasen said.

He studied the garden, the pergola Zarya had described, and the stretch of beach where she’d fallen asleep that last night before escaping to freedom. He felt weirdly proud of her at that moment. After living in this sheltered spot her entire life, setting out alone must have been terrifying.

Yasen turned to follow Row, passing a line of healthy trees and crossing into the ruined forest where the swamp had once existed. Immediately, Yasen could sense how different it felt from before. With his rakshasa connection to the earth, he’d always recognized the sinister energy that had permeated the dying plants and flowers.

But now he felt nothing. The magic was gone, and the only thing left was the dead forest that had yet to regrow. Perhaps Rabin would return someday to work his power over this land, but for now, it lay dormant.

Row stood at the swamp’s edge, peering into the water as Yasen stopped beside him.

“There’s nothing here,” Yasen said as Row nodded.

“You’re right. The blight hasn’t returned. This is just dead.”

“So, what does this mean?”

“I’m truly not sure.”

Yasen exhaled a long breath as he scanned their surroundings. Row then returned to the cottage, and Yasen followed again. They entered the small house, and Row immediately went for a cupboard, producing a bottle of dark liquor and a couple of glasses.

“Want one?” he asked as he poured himself a healthy measure.

“Sure,” Yasen answered. He accepted the glass before sitting at the table to sip quietly while Row stared out the window. Yasen sensed that he needed a moment.

“You okay?” he said after a minute, his question hesitant.

Row sighed and braced his hands on the counter before he dropped his head.

“Being here stirs up a lot of things,” he said and once again fell silent.

“You want to talk about it?”

Row looked up and turned around. He picked up his glass and took a long drink.

“I feel so much guilt for how I raised her,” he said. “I shouldn’t have locked her away. I should have hunted Abishek down and shoved a sword through his heart to protect her. I thought about doing it so many times, but I was too afraid.”

Yasen arched a brow at the coldness in Row’s voice.

“Then he probably would have killed you, and Zarya would have had no one. According to Rabin, none of this was really his fault, anyway.”

Row stared straight ahead and took another sip.

“Then whose fault is it?” he asked. “Someone was lying. Or mistaken. Someone told me to take that little girl and hide her away so she would be safe. But what was I really protecting her from? Was I wrong about everything?” He inhaled a sharp breath. “Did Asha lie to me? Or was she deceived, too? Have I spent the last two decades pining for a woman who used me for some reason I might never understand?”

Yasen watched Row as he blinked heavily, his chest expanding with deep breaths. He had no idea how to answer those questions. Row had loved Asha. Still loved, if this reaction was anything to go by, and Yasen couldn’t begin to understand the depth of Row’s sorrow.

“She doesn’t blame you,” Yasen said. “Zarya, I mean. She understands why you had to do it.”

Row shook his head and downed the rest of his drink. “I don’t deserve her forgiveness. And that still doesn’t make it right.”

“Maybe,” Yasen said. “But we do our best with the hand we’re dealt. You wanted to protect her, and you did. She grew up to be a strong, capable woman, and you were part of that. She loves you, Row. I know she does.”

Row exhaled a wry laugh, finally meeting Yasen’s gaze. “Thank you for that. I had no idea you could be so insightful, Varghese. I actually feel a bit better.”

Yasen winked and took a sip of his drink. “Any time. Just don’t tell anyone about this, okay? I have a reputation to maintain.”

That earned him a warm smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

A short while later, they returned to Dharati, where protestors continued chanting at the palace gates. Yasen wanted to tell everyone that the resistance was doing everything it could to help the vanshaj, but he knew they still had a long way to go.

With a few hours until dinner, Yasen couldn’t get comfortable in his opulent guestroom. It was unsettling to be treated like a visitor, considering he’d lived here his entire life.

He decided to visit his old room in the army barracks. Though he hadn’t planned on a reunion, he ran into a few familiar faces who were all happy to see him. He ended up having a few drinks before he practically had to peel himself away for dinner.

When he finally returned to the palace, he found Row in the dining room adjacent to Vikram’s suite. Yasen ground to a stop at the sight of another glowering face.

Gopal Ravana paused mid-sip to eye Yasen up and down.

“Nice of you to join us,” he said with a curl of his lip. This had been one of Yasen’s chief reasons to escape Dharati, and maybe he’d convinced himself he wouldn’t have to face this monster again. Gopal’s sneering face made him want to curl into a ball and hide in the corner.

Even with his pulse racing, he shrugged, adopting the casual air of someone who didn’t care too much. It was his armor. His defense. “I was having a drink in the barracks. I can’t help it if I’m a beloved figure around these parts.”

Gopal glared as Yasen dropped into a chair before a servant hurried forward to fill his wine glass. He exchanged a look with Row, who offered him a nod that suggested he fully agreed with Yasen’s thoughts on Gopal Ravana.

“Where’s Vik?” Yasen asked Row.

“I’m not sure.”

Yasen wasn’t in the mood for conversation with Gopal staring him down, so they all sat in awkward silence while Row’s gaze jumped between them. Once or twice, he opened his mouth as if planning to start a conversation but then snapped it shut when he clearly thought better of it.

“So, where have you been?” Gopal asked Yasen.

He arched a brow. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t. But I do want to know what you’re both doing here.”

“We’re here to speak with the steward.”

“About the vanshaj,” Gopal said. “I know your agenda, and this will not stand in Daragaab.”

Yasen’s pulse kicked up, anger swirling in his chest. He leaned forward. “That’s really none of your fucking business,” he hissed.

Gopal’s eyebrows hitched the barest fraction. Yasen had never stood up to him before, and he wanted to enjoy it, except for the sick feeling in his stomach that made him want to throw up.

“How dare—” Gopal seethed, his green eyes burning.

Yasen was saved from a tirade when the door finally opened to reveal Vikram.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “I got held up.”

The tension in the room eased a fraction while Yasen studied his friend and the alarming changes he witnessed earlier. The limp hair and the dull eyes. The way his clothes were still slightly rumpled.

“It’s no problem,” Row said, probably thrilled about the interruption.

Vikram took his seat and gestured for the food to arrive. A flurry of servants entered with silver dishes laden with delicacies, but Yasen had no appetite. Gopal’s presence always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

While they were eating, Row attempted to broach the topic of what they’d seen earlier.

“You’re aware of what’s been happening to Amrita?” Row asked carefully, including Gopal in the conversation while he watched with a sullen expression.

Vikram blew out a breath. “I am.”

“And what have you done about it?”

He shook his head with a blank look. “What should I do about it? Nothing can stop this now.”

“You should have called for me. Or one of the other Chiranjivi. We could have tried to help. Have you spoken with Tarin?”

Vikram waved him off at the mention of Amrita’s former steward. “No. There’s nothing to be done. She is dying.”

He said the words so matter-of-factly that Yasen choked on his wine. He met Row’s worried look while Vikram continued eating like he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.

“She’ll hold out long enough for the baby to be born.”

Vikram focused on his dinner, still oblivious to their shock.

“Vik, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling us?” Yasen asked.

“What if this hurts the baby?” Row asked as Vikram’s brow furrowed.

“The baby isn’t your concern,” Gopal said coldly. “When she is born, she will be placed under my care and grow up within my household so that I may protect her.”

Yasen and Row stared at him as Gopal simply picked up his drink and gulped it down in one long swallow. Gopal would keep the child under his thumb as he had with Amrita, ensuring his control over Daragaab. This was why he’d forced Vik to become her steward.

Yasen’s stomach churned with his hatred for this man.

After a moment, he directed his gaze to Vikram, wondering about his reaction to his father’s decision. He couldn’t interpret what he read in the dull reflection of his eyes. He’d changed so much.

Vikram blinked, and then his eyes spread wide. He started coughing violently, and his utensils clattered to the table.

Yasen was up immediately, striding over before dropping to a knee.

“Vik!” He thumped Vikram on the back. Vikram slid off his chair, clutching his stomach.

“The medic,” Gopal said. He pointed to a servant in the corner. “Get the medic!”

Vikram’s attendants had already begun scrambling, passing messages to the guards at the door. It felt like a coordinated dance. Like something that had happened before.

A moment later, a palace healer entered the room carrying a bag, his long robes swishing around his ankles. He dropped down next to Vikram and rolled him onto his back.

Yasen’s blood turned to ice as he looked into Vikram’s eyes. They’d turned completely black, and he was shaking and gasping for breath. The healer grasped Vikram’s collar and tore open the buttons.

Black lines ran all over Vikram’s body like tree branches. Bile climbed up Yasen’s throat as he crawled closer, noticing they weren’t vines but rather his veins filled with some kind of black substance creeping over his chest and stomach and neck.

“What is this?” Yasen whispered. “What’s happening to him?”

“We aren’t sure,” the healer said. “It started a few weeks ago.”

The healer reached into a bag as Vikram convulsed, his back arching as he made a low keening sound. His limbs shook as he writhed on the floor.

Yasen leaned over and framed his face with his hands. “Vik!” he called. “Can you hear me?”

“He won’t answer,” the healer said. “This is the only thing that helps.”

Then he jabbed Vikram’s pectoral with a long needle and depressed the plunger. Yasen watched the clear liquid drain into his friend before Vikram finally went limp. His body relaxed, and the blackness in his veins slowly faded but failed to disappear completely.

He looked over at Row, who stood with his hands braced on his knees, shock and surprise in his face.

Whatever was going on, this was so much worse than any of them had feared.