Page 61 of Heart of Night and Fire

The woman had been right there, so close and yet unreachable.

Zarya opened and closed her hand. Her nails were torn from gripping the wall, and her hand stung where the woman’s fingernails had left a row of bloody gouges. Zarya had held on as tightly as she could, but it hadn’t been enough.

She could still see the woman’s terror—the absolute certainty she was about to die written in every line of her face. It was a sight Zarya would never forget. She had looked about Zarya’s age. So young, her life had barely begun. Zarya erupted into a fresh wave of tears.

“Zarya!” Someone called her name, but she couldn’t move, her body weighed down by what felt like a ceiling of iron. She closed her eyes, willing the voice to stop. Willing herself into quiet oblivion. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

But then a hand stroked her hair, and she slowly opened her eyes to find Yasen crouched in front of her, scanning her body from her head to her toes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Zarya shook her head, unable to answer.

She didn’t resist when Yasen’s strong hands turned her over and scooped her up into his arms. It was nice to be held.

Zarya leaned her head against Yasen’s shoulder. She could feel the thrum of his heartbeat, and she thanked the gods that nothing had happened to him. While they weren’t exactly friends yet, he was definitely starting to grow on her.

Yasen carried her over to a stone bench and set her down carefully, leaning her against the wall.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she said with a wince. Her head and back were aching, the cuts on her hands and fingertips throbbing lightly. But she was fine. She would be fine.

Yasen sat down and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. At first, she resisted, unsure and confused, but then she realized he was trying to be comforting and she relaxed. He pulled her in, resting his chin on her forehead. She squeezed her eyes as a tear slid down her cheek before wrapping her arm around Yasen’s waist. This, too, was nice.

The Jai Tree was now a charred black ruin, barely recognizable. The massive trunk was covered in soot, every groove and line plugged with thick, greasy ash. Branches pointed into the sky like skinny black arms, reaching for help that had come too late. The doors had collapsed into each other, and debris lay everywhere. It littered the courtyard in a carpet of ruin—charred leaves and flowers, shattered buckets, and smashed stone.

“The queen,” Zarya whispered as a weight pulled on her heart. She looked up at Yasen, who was staring at the tree. She wanted to know what he was thinking about.

“I need to help search for other survivors. Are you okay here for a minute?” he asked. Zarya gave him a small nod. “I’ll be right back. I promise.” His voice was edged with a concern that made her heart twist. He let go of her and strode across the courtyard to confer with his fellow soldiers.

In the center of the courtyard, Suvanna still kneeled on the ground, her head bowed and her hands spread on her thighs. Apsara sat next to her, running her hand up and down Suvanna’s back, murmuring something into the merdeva’s ear.

People lay everywhere. No, not people. Bodies.

Some washed away in the tide, some drowned, some battered to death by the awesome weight of the water. Children, men, and women. So many of them. Dozens and dozens. How many lives had been lost to save just one? Zarya thought again of the woman who’d died. She had been a servant with no freedom of her own. No one here would even care she was gone.

Zarya closed her eyes, her teeth chattering as her clothes dried and the temperature dropped. She opened them again briefly when a blanket was tossed next to her on the bench, but she ignored it. The cold reminded her of what had been lost. Reminded her that she was somehow still alive. She’d come so close to going into that chasm, too. Why had her life been spared when so many hadn’t?

A moment later, she felt the blanket settle over her body, and she opened her eyes to find Kindle. Sodden but unharmed, he sat down next to her with a rip through the front of his coat and his black curls hanging limp over his forehead.

“Do you know if Vikram is okay?” Zarya asked, her throat raw from the smoke.

“He’s fine. Helping with the survivors.”

She let out a breath of relief, and the heaviness on her chest eased a fraction.

“Are you okay?” Kindle asked her.

Zarya didn’t respond at first. It was taking all her effort to keep herself upright. In spurts, she told Kindle about the woman she had allowed to die.

“That wasn’t your fault,” he said, placing a hand on Zarya’s knee. “You held on to her as long as you could. I’m sure it was terrifying to watch, but you are not to blame for that.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, weighing Kindle’s words.

“Zarya,” Kindle continued. “I want you to know you can confide in me. In Row’s absence, I feel a responsibility to ensure you’re cared for. Row has always been a good friend.”

Zarya turned to study him, reluctant to accept anyone’s help. She still didn’t know who any of these people really were. “I’m fine.”