Page 8 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin (The Nightfire Quartet #4)

SEVEN

“I need to go home,” Miraan repeated for the hundredth time, pacing the length of the room.

Yasen sat with his feet kicked up by the fire and a bottle of liquor on the table. Perhaps it was a little early to be drinking, but that was entirely subjective.

And it wasn’t like he cared what anyone thought, anyway.

Yasen had attempted to take Miraan’s mind off things by coaxing him into a walk through the city, but the prince only glared at everyone and everything until Yasen couldn’t take it anymore and conceded defeat. They’d returned to his room, where Miraan paced, muttering to himself.

That was when Yasen had gone in search of the liquor cabinet.

“So you’ve mentioned,” Yasen said, and Miraan blew out a sound of frustration. “But let’s be smart about this, okay? Your sister will cut you into tiny bite-sized pieces and feed you to her fish.”

“She doesn’t have fish,” Miraan grumbled as he dropped into his seat with his elbows planted on his knees.

“Metaphorical fish,” Yasen said. “Have a drink. Or several. I insist.”

Miraan grunted, and Yasen poured him a double shot. “It’ll help.”

Miraan accepted the glass and clasped it in his large hands. He had nice hands. Long fingers, callused from practicing with his sword. But they were also the hands of a noble, Yasen reminded himself. Someone far too good for the likes of him. Not that it mattered. They were just having fun. Enjoying each other’s company, though Miraan had been too stressed for much “enjoyment.” Once all this madness was over, Miraan would return home and do his princely duties, and Yasen would go wherever the next adventure took him.

Leaving Daragaab had been one of the best decisions he’d ever made. He’d always wanted to travel the world and explore everything it might offer. He wasn’t interested in remaining tethered in one spot ever again. It wasn’t until he’d escaped Dharati that he realized how much it had felt like living with a noose cinching his throat. He was here to help Zarya however she needed him, and then he’d be on his way.

She had Rabin now to look over her, and she could manage on her own. That meant, as usual, Yasen had become expendable, and he’d have to find somewhere to carve out another life for himself. Maybe a small part of him missed Dharati, but what would he do even if he did return? He refused to join the army—he no longer wanted to fight. And being too close to Vikram would put him under Gopal’s thumb yet again. He simply couldn’t return to that life.

“Are you listening?” Miraan asked and Yasen blinked.

“Of course I am.”

“Then what did I just say?”

“That you want to return to Ishaan, and you’re worried about your family,” he answered without missing a beat.

Miraan glared at him for a moment. “Lucky guess,” he grumbled as he took another swig of his drink.

“I know you better than you’d like,” Yasen said as a knock came at the door.

“I want you to know me,” Miraan muttered under his breath, just low enough for Yasen to catch it with his enhanced rakshasa hearing. He ignored it. The prince was distraught. Worried. He didn’t know what he needed or wanted. He was a royal. He’d be expected to marry someone with power and influence. Not an orphaned soldier with nothing to offer and without a penny to his name.

The door opened to reveal Zarya and Rabin, despite the fact they hadn’t been invited to enter.

“Come in, why don’t you?” Yasen drawled.

“You mean the way you barge into my room all the time?” Zarya asked.

“But when I do, it’s charming,” he answered, eliciting a snort.

Unlike most people, she always laughed at his jokes. Never grew weary of his insouciance and sarcasm. Around Zarya, he could be entirely himself in a way he’d never experienced with anyone else. Not even Vikram.

They’d started on rocky footing, but she appreciated him and reminded him of that every chance she got. He’d never been around someone like her before. Someone who wasn’t afraid to be open with her feelings. He never wondered where he stood with her, and something about that was reassuring. It filled this weird, empty space behind his heart.

As his gaze slid to Miraan, he tried to ignore that maybe Zarya wasn’t the only one who made him feel that way.

“How was your meeting?” Miraan asked, standing up. “When can we return to Ishaan?”

Zarya held up her hands in a slow-down gesture. “Rabin and I can’t leave just yet.”

“Why not?” Yasen asked as the chime of warning bells rang in his head.

She explained the possible complications with their Bandhan and her sixth anchor.

“So, we’ve agreed to wait until the king’s mystic can take a look at us and perform whatever spell is necessary to ensure the bond is stable. We’re no use to anyone if our magic poisons our blood, and if the bond snaps…”

“That’s fucked up, Zee,” he said, and she nodded.

“Hopefully, we’ve caught it early enough. Abishek mentioned he could arrange transport for you back to Ishaan if you like; however, I think you should stay here a bit longer. Just until we can be sure it’s safe.”

Yasen ran a hand down his face, considering the many sides of his conflicted emotions. He wanted to return to Ishaan for all the same reasons as the others, but he worried for Miraan’s safety.

He also didn’t want to leave Zarya here alone. Something about the king bothered him. Rabin wasn’t stupid—in fact, he was brilliant—but he sensed Rabin might have a blind spot regarding his mentor.

Yasen hadn’t forgotten Row’s warnings about the king of Andhera. He knew Rabin would protect Zarya with his life, but Abishek was a powerful Aazheri, and they had no idea what he was capable of.

Zarya had become one of the most important people in his life, and he wouldn’t survive losing her.

“I agree,” Yasen said. “Let’s get a better read on the situation.” When Miraan opened his mouth to protest, he lifted a hand. “Zarya said it would just be a few days. Let’s wait for them to deal with this bond thing, and then we all return? I’d feel better if we stuck together.”

Yasen looked around the room, seeking approval from Zarya and Rabin, who both nodded.

“Yas is right,” Zarya said. “We shouldn’t split up. I also want to see if the king might be persuaded to our side.” She chewed on her lip. “He’s reluctant, but I think he’s open to being convinced.”

Miraan let out a surprised huff. “Well, that would certainly be something. I think Dishani would be far more willing to listen to the rebellion’s demands if the king of Andhera were already a champion for the cause. She’s always admired him.”

“Then give me a few days to work on him,” Zarya said.

Miraan pressed his mouth together, his knee bouncing in agitation.

“A few days won’t make any difference in the bigger picture,” Yasen said.

Miraan’s jaw flexed again, and Yasen was sure he would refuse before his shoulders dropped. “Fine.”

“So, what should we do while we wait?” Yasen asked, eyeing the barren landscape through the window. This climate wasn’t for him. He liked the sun and warmth. Fresh grass and flourishing flowers. He had no idea how Rabin could stand being here all these years with so few plants and trees around him.

“There are some things I’d like to understand about my magic,” Zarya said. “I have some reading to do.”

“Of course you do,” he deadpanned, which earned him a glare.

“Come and spar with me and Ekaja,” Rabin said with a sly grin. “She’ll wipe the floor with the likes of you.”

Yasen barked out a laugh and lifted his glass in a toast. “Without a doubt.”