Page 7 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin (The Nightfire Quartet #4)

SIX

Yasen and Miraan stayed for breakfast, but it was a quiet affair with everyone lost in their thoughts.

Amongst her many worries about Ishaan, Zarya couldn’t stop thinking of how she’d been cut off from the mind plane or the strange dream with her mother. And who was that glowing woman she’d seen in the corner?

She considered sharing the details of her dream with Miraan but stopped herself. He was already distressed, and what if she was wrong? What if it was someone else?

Besides, something about saying it out loud felt ludicrous. He’d known Asha. She’d been his real mother. He’d loved her and been loved by her, while Zarya had little right to claim a connection with the woman who had borne them both. Miraan had been the one who’d lost her, while Zarya had never even met her.

When they’d all had their fill, Yasen and the prince stood, prepared to return to their rooms, though Miraan was still clearly agitated and struggling with his guilt.

“Why don’t you check out the city?” Zarya suggested. “Take your mind off things?”

“Maybe,” Miraan said.

Yasen offered Zarya an I’ll take care of him look and steered the prince out. She understood why he wanted to return home, but they had to be careful. Dishani undoubtedly had people searching for them, and the princess would have endless reach and resources to draw upon.

Still, Miraan wasn’t without power. Perhaps he could shield the rebellion for long enough to bring Ishaan under control. But could he do that from so far away? And what did control even look like? Zarya was sure this couldn’t end without a complete and total overthrow of everything they’d ever known.

She dressed in a dark blue salwar kameez that Urvi had provided and prepared to meet with her father. When she opened her door, Rabin was already waiting, freshly shaven and showered, wearing a black kurta and leather pants.

“Morning,” she said.

“Spitfire,” he answered in that low, growly voice that did scandalous things to her insides. She wasn’t sure how long she could pretend he meant nothing to her, especially without access to the mind plane.

“Rabin,” she said. “Before we go, I want you to know that I plan to tell the king some things I haven’t shared with you yet. But it’s time you heard them because you have a right to know. Plus, after what happened last night…”

He stared at her briefly, and she wondered if he was hurt or angry that she hadn’t shared all her secrets with him yet. But he dipped his chin. “Then let’s go. The king doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she quipped with a roll of her eyes as he held out his arm.

With their elbows looped, he led her through the castle and its many black stone corridors. Almost every surface was overlaid with colorful rugs and tapestries, expertly woven with battle scenes and significant moments in Andhera’s history.

She stopped when she noticed one depicting Abishek standing on the dais with hundreds of people surrounding him in his throne room.

“His coronation,” Rabin said, catching the direction of her stare. “His father passed away many centuries ago. He, too, was a very powerful Aazheri.”

His father. Zarya’s grandfather .

She blinked, suddenly feeling the weight of her nameless history. She was connected to an entire network of people she’d never known and never would. Who else was out there waiting to meet her?

“How did he die?” she asked.

“He was much like the king and often experimented with magic. He was found dead in his study, and there was barely any of him left. We can only guess how he met his end, but some say he grew careless and played with forces beyond his grasp.”

Her brow furrowed at the grisly image before she inhaled a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s go.”

They continued their way through the castle, passing numerous vanshaj servants and guards, all dressed in black and stationed at various corners. Their expressions suggested they weren’t entirely sure what to make of either of them.

“Can we see the city before we leave?” she asked Rabin as they passed a window, revealing the busy streets below. She couldn’t bear the thought of missing out on a quick visit.

“Of course,” Rabin said. “Yasen and Miraan are headed down there now. We can join them for lunch in a few hours.”

“They want to return to Ishaan right away,” she said.

“I know. Miraan shared his worries with me. He’s…troubled.”

“I’d say he’s more than that,” she answered as they rounded another corner.

“Do you want to join them?” Rabin asked. “Now that you’re here, how do you feel about staying for a while?”

The question was guarded, almost as if he was probing for a specific answer.

“I do want to return. I want to spend time here, too, but I’m worried about the Phoenix. I promised Miraan we’d leave once I get the answers I need.”

Rabin nodded. “We won’t abandon them. We will return to finish what we started.”

She squeezed his bicep. “We knew our visit was only temporary. I just didn’t count on having to leave so soon.”

Finally, they came to a stop before a set of wide doors flanked by two armed soldiers. After bending at the waist, one opened a door, and Zarya and Rabin entered a long, wide hallway made of black stone and adorned with colorful enamel art, directly contrasting the monotone hues of Andhera’s landscape.

Rabin led her to another door and opened it to reveal a massive library. She noticed how comfortable he was within these walls. How he entered rooms without invitation and walked the halls like he knew every corner.

Her eyes widened at the sight of dozens and dozens of high shelves crammed with books. They stretched back as far as she could see. It was massive, nearly rivaling the Jai Palace library in its scale.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention to Abishek, also dressed in black with his hair tied at his nape. She stared at him for several long seconds, again searching for a resemblance in his features. Everyone claimed she looked like Asha, but Zarya found herself in the slope of his nose and the shape of his eyes, too.

Her thoughts wandered back to the tormented Asha she’d seen in her dreams before she shook the image away.

“I see you’re admiring my collection,” Abishek said with a pleased smile. “It’s taken many centuries to gather these texts. It’s one of the most comprehensive magical resources in the continent.”

She scanned the shelves, wishing she could spend hours losing herself in the pages. “How does it compare to Dharati’s library?” she asked as she ran her hand along a shelf, reading the various titles stamped in gold.

Abishek chuckled at that. “Let’s just say I could give them a run for their riches,” he answered. “However, their collection includes a few items I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on.”

Zarya glanced at the doorway where Rabin stood silently, thinking of the night they’d broken into the restricted section and lost Vikram’s trust.

Abishek swept out his arms and then gestured her towards him. “Let me show you around.”

After touring the library’s different sections, he directed her towards his work area, filled with long wooden tables covered in an array of glass jars and various instruments. She studied the bubbling liquids, the vials, and the packed shelves crammed with an astonishing variety of magical ingredients.

“This is amazing,” she said, admiring every inch of the space. This must be where she’d earned her love of learning and reading, and the thought fired a wave of acute longing in her chest.

“I’m so glad you like it,” Abishek said. “Come, sit down, and let us talk. Rabindranath, you, too.”

Zarya glanced at Rabin and frowned, wondering why he seemed so stiff. He hadn’t said a word since they’d arrived, and she wasn’t sure what to make of his behavior.

“I want to know everything we didn’t have a chance to discuss last night,” Abishek added.

Zarya understood what that meant—her nightfire. Row’s warnings flashed in her thoughts, but she reminded herself that Rabin trusted the king. He would never have brought her here otherwise. If Abishek wanted to steal her magic, then he had no reason to spend time getting to know her or answer any of her questions.

“Sure,” Zarya said as they settled into the chairs arranged around a fireplace situated a safe distance from the precious books. Abishek sat on her right, and Rabin on her left, where his knee kept bouncing.

Zarya began by explaining the night in Dharati when the kala-hamsa attacked and her nightfire first appeared. The king asked many probing questions about how it worked and what combination of anchors the magic required. They were the clinical questions of a scholar, and with each answer, she was trying not to feel like she was giving up a piece of herself.

“There’s something else nightfire gives me the power to do,” she said, suddenly nervous about offering up these words. She checked in with Rabin, who gave her a small nod of encouragement.

“Yes?” Abishek asked as he sat up in curiosity.

“I used my nightfire to break the vanshaj collars.”

She said nothing else, letting the silence stretch.

Abishek blinked and shook his head. “ You broke them?”

She nodded and went on to explain the entire process, first by wielding the sixth anchor and then the more efficient route using her nightfire. When she was done, the king silently watched her, saying nothing for so long that she thought he might not answer.

Was he angry?

Finally, Abishek exhaled a sharp, surprised breath before he sat forward, balancing an elbow on his knee and rubbing his face.

“You must cease this madness at once, Zarya. You are upsetting the natural order of things. You see what’s happened in Ishaan. If you continue on this path, it will only result in so much worse.”

Those words crushed something delicate in her spirit.

“That isn’t my fault. They started this. They are the reason this is happening.”

Abishek waved a hand. “Everything was fine until the resistance in Ishaan began stirring things up?—”

“Everything was not fine. Thousands of people in Rahajhan are forced to work in servitude against their will. They are without rights or freedoms. They are treated as second-class citizens and deserve the same rights we have. In fact, they deserve more.”

“Zarya,” Abishek said, holding up his hands. “You cannot change this.”

She pressed her mouth together, irritated and angry at the dismissal in his tone. “I was hoping”—she said through gritted teeth—“you’d allow me to practice my magic on some of your subjects.”

Abishek blinked. “Free the vanshaj in Andhera?”

“Yes.”

“No. It is out of the question.”

“Don’t you want to see how it works at least? Rabin says you have the sixth anchor. I could teach you, too.”

He studied her with a pensive look. “I admit I would be curious to see this in action, purely out of professional interest, but if word got out in Andhera, there would be chaos. It’s too risky.”

Zarya swallowed the tension in her throat, glancing at Rabin, who remained silent, allowing her to argue her case. “But I?—”

He waved a hand silencing her, his expression softening. “I can see you are passionate about this.” He paused as his brows drew together. “I will think about it. That’s all I can promise for now.”

A rush of hope flared in her chest. Maybe he could be convinced. Maybe with the right motivation, he could see his way to agreement. She thought of Miraan’s words and how powerful people preferred to be on the right side of history. The king’s help could mean securing a victory that felt so far out of reach.

“I would appreciate that,” Zarya said. “I think if you consider it, you’ll understand why things must change.”

The king regarded her with a cautious look. “Perhaps.” Another pause before he added, “But until I make a decision, I ask that you not bring this subject up anywhere in my kingdom again. Is that understood? Should I agree to this request, it must be done with care and precaution so as not to repeat the mistakes made in Ishaan.”

His tone left no room for argument, and this was the king she’d been expecting. Someone colder and more ruthless. Someone who gave an order and demanded compliance. Still, it wasn’t a no. Maybe he could be drawn to their side. She had promised Miraan they’d return to Ishaan soon, but what if there were other ways to fight this battle?

A demonstration might convince the king, but where might she find a willing subject?

“Fine,” she said slowly. “There are two other things I’d like to discuss with respect to my magic.”

Abishek folded his hands in his lap and nodded. “Of course. How can I help?”

Zarya swallowed and shared another look with Rabin. He was watching her carefully now. He knew she’d been keeping something from him, and she was grateful he hadn’t tried to force out the truth.

Zarya described her visions and what happened in the forests of Ishaan and at Rabin’s estate with his flowers. When she was done, Abishek wore a puzzled groove between his brows.

“I see,” he said. “And what do you believe this is?”

She blew out a slow breath. “It sounds…crazy.” She looked down at her hands before she continued. “But sometimes, I wonder if the darkness is following me.”

It took several seconds before she looked back up to find both men watching her with twin looks of surprise and curiosity.

Abishek sighed, shook his head, and asked a few more questions. At first, her answers were halting, but once she started talking, she couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

When she was done, they all fell silent. She snuck a glance at Rabin, worried about his reaction, but he was staring at her with that same fierce intensity as always. Nothing wavered in his expression. She gave him a soft smile that she hoped conveyed her appreciation for everything he’d brought to her life.

“I’ll be honest,” Abishek said. “I’m not entirely sure what you’re describing. And I hate the feeling of not understanding something.”

Zarya’s shoulders fell. “Oh. I was hoping…I mean, that’s part of why I came…” She drifted off as the king sat forward and clasped his hands.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t figure this out,” he said. “You did come to the right place. If the answers are anywhere in Rahajhan, they’re here.” He swept out an arm. “And if anyone can find them, it’s me.”

His certainty loosened some of the tightness in her chest. “Okay, thank you.”

He gave her a warm smile and then tipped his head. “And what was the other thing?”

She then described what had happened in the mind plane last night.

“Ah,” Abishek said, this time full of certainty. “I was afraid of this.”

“Of what?”

“This is why I wanted Kishore to examine your bond.”

“Why?”

“You carry the sixth anchor.”

Zarya tipped her head. “Yes? And?”

“Did you mention this to the mystic who performed the Bandhan?”

“No, of course not.”

Abishek leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “After Rabindranath left to find you, I spoke with Kishore and he mentioned that if an Aazheri with a sixth anchor completes the Bandhan, the bond can be affected in adverse ways.”

“Where is he?” Rabin interjected, finally ending his silence.

Abishek’s assessing gaze raked over Rabin. “He’s in the mountains dealing with an important errand. Had I known your Bandhan was already deteriorating, I would never have allowed him to leave.”

“What do you mean, deteriorating?” Zarya asked.

Abishek circled a hand. “Apparently, the magic can, for lack of a better term, go off .”

Her breath hitched. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Magic is often an inconstant thing. In most cases, the Bandhan will bind the paramadhar to his masatara, but done incorrectly, the sixth anchor can sometimes corrupt the bond, making it toxic—mostly for the paramadhar.”

Both their gazes fell on Rabin.

“What do you mean?” Zarya asked, panic already swelling in her gut. “How does it affect him?”

“Rabin may begin to feel ill, and given enough time, you as well. This corruption can cause the bond to weaken over time and eventually break.” Abishek pressed his mouth together in a grim line, letting them fill in the blanks. If the bond broke, Rabin would die. This was the risk they’d taken in completing the Bandhan.

“Had you waited until you arrived, we might have avoided this. As it stands, I suspect the problem you experienced in the mind plane is only the first sign of trouble.”

Rabin’s jaw hardened at the reproach in the king’s voice, and Zarya couldn’t believe he was lecturing them after what he’d just revealed.

“Is there anything we can do?” Zarya asked, gripping the arms of her chair, her voice shaking. They’d completed the Bandhan in a rush. She knew it had been a rash decision, but the Rising Phoenix had needed them.

“Perhaps,” Abishek said. “May I examine the markings?”

She looked to Rabin for confirmation, and he nodded. His expressionless face gave her no hint about how he was reacting to this news.

“If it will help,” he said.

“I would prefer for Kishore to take a look, but I will do my best.”

The king stood, and Zarya and Rabin did the same.

“What did you choose for the image?” he asked.

Rabin pulled off his kurta while Zarya tugged down her shoulder, exposing their matching dragons. Something akin to satisfaction lit up Abishek’s eyes.

“Ah,” he said. “Well done.”

He moved closer and held out a hand. “May I?” he asked, and Zarya nodded.

He touched the iridescent black lines, his fingers warm as he traced the edges. His eyes fluttered closed, and she watched his lips move like he was talking to himself.

“This was a very skilled practitioner,” he said. “I feel how precise and clean the bond is. It’s very easy to botch the process. I really would have preferred for Kishore to handle something so important, but all things considered, it could have been much worse.”

Again, his voice held a hint of admonishment, and Zarya resisted the urge to roll her eyes. But maybe he had a point if they had messed up by not revealing her sixth anchor to Thriti.

Abishek then gestured to Rabin. “Come.”

He laid his hand on Rabin’s torso and once again fell silent. He began murmuring to himself again, and after a few minutes, he nodded.

“Yes, I am concerned,” he said. “It’s early days, but Kishore must examine this as soon as possible. The bond is corrupted and will require powerful magic to rectify.”

“Can he do it?” Zarya asked.

“Of course. There is little he cannot do.”

Zarya exchanged a wary look with Rabin and then nodded. “When is he coming back?”

“I’ll send word to return as soon as possible.”

Zarya pulled up her sleeve while Rabin tugged his kurta over his head. “And in the meantime, could I explore your library and see if I can find out anything about my visions?”

Abishek swept out a hand to encompass their surroundings. “What’s mine is yours, my daughter. And I will help you, of course. We can get to know one another better, too.”

“Thank you,” she said again.

“Wonderful,” Abishek said. “I hear your companions wish to return home due to the continued unrest in Ishaan.”

She blinked. “How did you know that?”

“Not much happens within these walls without my knowing, my dear.”

“Oh.”

“I’d be happy to arrange transport for them,” Abishek said.

“I can fly them,” Rabin added.

“I think you should both remain here for your safety. If something else should go wrong, then I can assist with keeping the bond stable. I’d feel better if you were close.”

“Is it really that serious?” Zarya asked, growing increasingly worried.

Had they made a grave error in binding themselves? What if she’d signed Rabin’s death?

Abishek smiled and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m not sure yet. But I promise we’ll get to the bottom of this.”