Page 10 of Heart of Night and Fire

“No,” Aarav said, running a hand through his hair. “There’s no sign of him anywhere.” He narrowed his eyes. “How did you get out here? How did you get past Row’s magic?”

She thought about lying. Telling him she’d managed it on her own, but she knew he’d never believe that.

“I didn’t,” Zarya said finally, her eyes shifting away. “It was… gone.”

“Gone?” Aarav’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Just that. I simply walked out.”

They shared a look deep with implications, the full weight of that knowledge sinking in.

Aarav straightened and then sheathed his sword. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Zarya rolled her eyes at the chastisement in his tone. “Why not?”

“You know why.”

His hands hung loosely at his sides, his feet spread as if he were expecting her to bolt. She considered it but was worried about getting lost in the swamp after yesterday. Besides, she needed Ojas, and Aarav would surely stop her before she could untether him.

“We’re going to go back home to wait for him,” Aarav said, grabbing her arm.

She yanked it from his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” She was never returning to the cottage. She brushed past him and went to untie Ojas.

“Stop this, Zarya. You had your fun. We’re going back now.”

“No,” she said, refusing to look at him as she soothed the horse and adjusted the saddle.

“Zarya, be reasonable. What is Row going to say if he finds you out here? You know this isn’t safe.”

“Why isn’t it safe, Aarav? Why am I the only one who never gets to leave that fucking place?” She gestured in the direction she’d come.

His mouth pressed together, and for the briefest second, she wondered if she caught a flash of contrition in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced with a harder edge.

“We can’t stay out here any longer. Come on.”

He turned then and headed towards his own horse, grabbing the reins and leading it down the path Zarya had followed yesterday. She didn’t move, looking in the other direction, feeling everything slipping away. For the briefest moment, she had tasted it—the freedom she’d longed for every day of her life, and now it was crumbling between her fingers like ash.

“Zarya,” Aarav called over his shoulder, his tone sharp. “I can’t be responsible for how Row will react if he finds you out here.”

The words were heavy with repercussions, and Zarya nodded, tears stinging her eyes.

She grabbed Ojas’s reins and silently followed, her head down and her eyes on her feet as she felt herself slowly pulling apart. This had been a stupid idea, anyway. Of course, she wasn’t destined for freedom. What had she really thought? There was something more for her?

The cottage was her life, and she’d grow old and die there, lonely and bitter, and that was it.

They walked for a short while, leading their horses across the boggy ground as Zarya’s mood grew darker and darker. She’d sworn last night that she’d never return to the cottage. What if she just jumped up on Ojas and ran? She could hide in the swamp. What was the worst that could happen? Could she outrun Aarav? He’d know she was headed for Dharati, and eventually, he’d find her.

The soft murmur of voices caught her attention. Both Aarav and Zarya came to a halt at the sound, their gazes meeting in wary apprehension. Zarya released Ojas’s reins and quietly shuffled to the edge of the path to peer through a set of low, dense bushes.

On the other side, two men were dismounting from their own horses. One with shoulder-length silver hair, the front pieces tied back with a small strip of leather, and about half a dozen braids woven throughout. The other had bright emerald eyes and short black hair that fell in waves around his ears.

They were talking in low voices, and Zarya couldn’t make out their conversation. It was rare to see strangers in the swamp, and she couldn’t tear herself away.

The black-haired man sat down on a log, stretching his long legs out in front of him before crossing them at the ankles, while the other peered into the muddy pool before them, scratching his chin.

Not just men, she realized with a jolt.

That burnished brown skin, those bright eyes, those slightly elongated canines—she’d read enough stories to recognize them for what they were. Rakshasas. A nearly immortal species of elemental being known for drinking blood. Many lived in Daragaab, the seat of earth magic in Rahajhan, and most were of noble birth. Zarya tried not to gawk at this fairy tale come to life before her very eyes.