Page 114 of Heart of Night and Fire

The city was in ruins. There were dead people and demons everywhere she looked, buildings on fire, and the ground torn up in every direction. Dozens of soldiers and medics were swarming like bees spreading help to everyone who needed it.

“Zee!” Zarya looked over to find Yasen jogging towards her, and she almost collapsed in relief. “Oh, thank the gods.”

He wrapped his arms around her, her legs buckling, right before he scooped her up. He started walking, and soon they came in sight of the palace. He passed through the gates and into the courtyard where a makeshift hospital had already been erected.

Yasen settled her onto a cot and crouched down. She noted the bandage already wrapped around his leg where the dakini had clawed him last night. Had that really only been hours ago?

“Rest here. I’m going to get you some help.”

Zarya dozed in and out of waking, her eyes fluttering open when she felt a pair of warm hands on her stomach. Koura stood over her, his glowing yellow light knitting the worst of her injuries back together.

When he was done, she lay on the cot, feeling the vestiges of pain seep away. Now her mind was clearing again, and she remembered what she had to do.

Curling into a ball, she wrapped her arms around her legs and then pressed her forehead to her knees while she sobbed.

The darkness.

Fucking Row. She had never been angrier in her life. How could he not have told her this? How could he have let her live blind to what she was? She would never forgive him for this. Not that it mattered anymore. Once she got out of here, she would disappear and never talk to anyone again. Loneliness was her destiny. It was a good thing she’d had a lot of practice.

Breathing heavily, she searched inside her heart. The secret star responded, called by her thoughts. The sixth anchor was still there, reminding her why she couldn’t remain in Dharati. Of why she had to do what she’d always done.

She didn’t want to leave this life she’d created. She thought of Yasen and their friendship, but she would have to let him go. He deserved better than her. He deserved everything. She wondered if Amrita had survived the attack and how Vikram was doing. She prayed that none of the Chiranjivi had died, no matter her complicated feelings for them.

“Zarya.” Yasen was standing over her. “You’re not going to believe this, but Row is back.”

Once again, it took her several long moments to weave through the tangle of her muddled thoughts. She pushed herself up slowly.

“Where? Where is he?”

“I can take you to see him. Do you think you can walk?”

Suddenly, she wasn’t tired anymore. Row was back. She staggered to her feet, relieved to see she wasn’t quite as weak as she had been before Koura had healed her.

“I can walk,” she said with a determined set to her jaw. “Take me to him.”

Yasen led Zarya through the palace into a large room scattered with sofas and tables. A bank of windows overlooked the sea, under which Row sat on a plush chair, holding a glass of whisky. A tightness around his eyes suggested he hadn’t been sleeping much.

“Row,” she said, her voice hard as his gaze flicked up.

Zarya strode into the room with her hands balled into fists. She vaguely registered there were others also in the room, but she only had eyes for her former captor. The man who had raised her. The man who had left her and was now sitting here completely unharmed, having a fucking drink.

Relief loosened his shoulders at the sight of her.

“Zarya,” he said softly, before he placed the glass next to him and stood, arms hanging stiffly at his sides as if he might embrace her, and that’s when Zarya finally snapped.

She stomped up to him, cocked her arm, and punched him square in the face.

FORTY

“Don’t Zarya me!” She launched herself at Row while Aarav and Yasen held her back. “Where have you been? You left me! You locked me up, and then you left me!”

“Zee! Calm down,” Yasen said as she stopped fighting his hold.

Zarya glared at Aarav, who let go of her arm, his hands raised.

Row’s nose had given an audible crunch when it had connected with her fist, and blood dripped down his face. A servant handed Row a cloth that he pressed against it.

Slumped in his seat, he regarded her warily.