Page 63 of Heart of Night and Fire

“No. I’ll go and check on her,” he said. “You stay here.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Zarya found a place to sit and await news. As she sipped on her tea, her chilled blood finally started to thaw.

While the day waned, courtiers, servants, and guards milled about the courtyard, some mopping up the water while others aided the injured. Survivors left for the infirmary while others returned to their rooms and homes. Many stayed, wondering about the fate of their queen and the city she protected.

Hours passed as Vikram paced back and forth, unable to settle. Yasen approached Vikram, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering something only Vikram could hear. Zarya was happy to see them talking again after their argument the other night.

Vikram nodded at Yasen, gripping his arm in thanks.

After several more hours, Koura finally emerged from the Jai Tree, glowing with a sheen of sweat. Everyone waited with their breaths held.

“She is alive,” he said, his deep voice resonating across the courtyard. Murmurs of relief rippled through the crowd, their collective tension softening. “The damage is severe. She may not survive, but for now, she is stable.”

Zarya studied the stricken faces around her. Though she had only spoken with the silent queen once, it was obvious she was loved by her people.

Vikram looked broken, his expression haggard and his hair sticking up from where he’d run his hands through it.

“You should get some rest,” Zarya said, placing a hand on Vikram’s back. After being up half the night with the Khada, they were all running on pure adrenaline.

“I’ll take him to his room,” Yasen said. “You should lie down, too. I’ve arranged for you to stay in the palace tonight. You look exhausted. And kind of terrible.”

He grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes. Yasen winked as he led Vikram away, and she found herself smiling at his infuriating but kind of loveable irreverence.

With the blanket still pulled tight around her, Zarya walked back to her usual room, where a warm bath awaited her. A wave of sorrow for the vanshaj rose in her chest, knowing it was the silent and subservient people who worked around the clock, ensuring everyone’s comfort, who had been responsible for this.

Zarya stripped off her Khada armor, still damp all these hours later. She wiped her hands on the blanket, transferring a layer of black soot and yellowish dust before dropping it on the pile of clothing.

She stepped into the hot bath and sighed as it chased away the chill that permeated her bones. When she was done, she stepped out, still shivering, and dressed in a soft nightgown before covering it with a thick robe.

A swell of exhaustion overtook her, and she climbed onto the soft bed, her eyelids weighed down like anchors. She didn’t think she’d ever been this tired before in her life. She blinked heavily, her body melting into the soft mattress.

When she opened her eyes a moment later, Zarya lay in the black and violet forest, her cheek pressing into the soft grass. Tension instantly dissolved from her tight shoulders as she inhaled the fresh scents drifting on the night air.

Footsteps crunched in the grass, and Zarya didn’t need to look up to know who walked amongst the trees. His presence tugged at the corners of a secret place deep inside her spirit.

She watched his feet as he came to a stop and lay down in the grass next to her, his gaze skyward and his hands clasped over his stomach.

They lay in silence for several minutes, and Zarya couldn’t remember ever feeling so at peace. Something about this place made all the events of the day feel like a distant memory.

“What magic created this forest?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know,” Zarya said. “I thought maybe you knew.”

He turned to look at her. His eyes weren’t cold, but they were acute, as if considering everything.

“Who are you?” Zarya asked.

“I’m Rabin.” His eyes widened briefly, as if he were surprised he’d offered up that fact.

“I’m Zarya,” she replied, feeling no need to hide it from him.

“Zarya,” he repeated, and she liked the way her name sounded in his mouth, like a stroke of lightning casting the world in brilliance.

“Why does this forest feel so”—she paused, searching for the right word—“good?”

Rabin raised his dark eyebrows. “And yet, something is bothering you.”