Page 29 of Heart of Night and Fire

She lay back on the bed, allowing her swirling thoughts to pulse and coalesce into a new pattern. She’d imagined so many scenarios for her life beyond the cottage, but which one of them might ever become real?

The rain drummed against the windows, white noise filling her ears. She opened her eyes at the sound of chirping crickets a second later. Or maybe it had been hours—it was hard to tell. She was back in the dream forest, lying on the ground.

There was the same river of stars in a deep violet sky and the same leafy dark trees. A rustle in the bushes called her attention, and she sat up, finding the same mysterious figure standing in the shadows. She could feel his gaze on her, pulling up gooseflesh across her skin.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper, conscious of upsetting the quiet stillness of this place.

He didn’t answer, but he did move closer as a sliver of moonlight fell over his face—there she saw the flash of dark eyes. A straight nose and the hint of a mouth, along with a chiseled collarbone and a broad shoulder.

“Please. What is this place? Who are you?” she asked, pushing herself up to stand. “Why do I keep coming here?”

But the stranger remained frustratingly quiet, as still as the air that surrounded them. Was he a ghost? A projection? Was he real?

She moved closer, taking one step and then another, before she tripped forward like she’d stepped through a cloud, the ground melting away beneath her feet and her stomach heaving into her throat.

A moment later, her eyes popped open, and she was once again lying in her bed inside Row’s haveli, confused and blinking up at the ceiling.

THIRTEEN

It took several moments to reorient herself to the present. What was that place? And maybe more importantly, who was that man?

She sat up and looked out the window, noticing the rain had let up, leaving the room humid and stifling. Deciding she needed some air, she went outside to the small courtyard at the side of the house with the book still clutched in her hand.

She dropped onto a bench situated under a pergola in the corner and opened it to the page with her mother’s image. Lost in her thoughts, she jumped when someone called her name. The book bounced out of her lap and landed face down at her feet.

Apsara was staring down at her with her leather-clad arms folded across her chest. Her white wings gave a soft flutter as she took in Zarya’s disheveled appearance. She raised a silvery grey eyebrow as she glanced at the book at Zarya’s feet, her head tilting to read the cover.

“What are you reading?”

“Nothing. I like the pictures,” Zarya said, retrieving the book and snapping it shut.

Apsara shrugged. “Will you come with me? There’s something I’d like to verify.”

“What?” Zarya asked, a shiver of unease running across the hairs on her neck.

Apsara didn’t answer. Instead, she jerked her chin, turned on her heel, and walked away. Zarya supposed that was her cue to follow. Apsara led them into the streets of Dharati, where barriers of green silk cord now lined the edges of the chasm. The courtier they’d seen when they first arrived, who bore a resemblance to Vikram, stood at the opposite edge, surrounded by several other rakshasas who were fawning in his presence.

“Nawab Gopal Ravana,” Apsara said, catching Zarya’s gaze. “One of Daragaab’s most powerful rakshasas and the highest-ranking noble outside the royal family. He functions as the ambassador between the rakshasas and yakshis.”

Zarya paused to watch as Gopal stretched his arm over the chasm, focusing intently, before the earth shuddered in response. The two sides of the abyss groaned and then shifted inward, as if drawn together by a magnetic force.

“Ravana? As in Vikram Ravana?”

“His father.” Apsara’s mouth flattened in a line. “His earth magic is strong.”

“Can he fix it?”

She shook her head. “No, that would either kill him or take months. There’s only one rakshasa in Rahajhan with that sort of power, but the nawab can at least make it less of a hazard.”

“But he has years. Rakshasas are immortal, right?”

Apsara nodded. “Nearly so, but I worry it’s Daragaab’s time that is limited.”

“The blight.”

“The blight,” she replied. “But something else too, something irreversible. It’s changing, shifting, becoming more unstable. And if it keeps spreading, how long will it be before the shadows encompass all of Rahajhan? The other realms can claim ignorance, but if we don’t stop this, everyone will feel its taint before long.”

With a grim expression, Apsara turned to Zarya. “But that’s what I’m hoping you might be able to help with.”