Page 64 of Heart of Night and Fire

It was her turn to be surprised at his perceptiveness. She let out a long breath.

“I let a woman die today.” She clenched the soft grass, the blades tickling her fingers.

“What happened?”

“There was a fire and a flood, and I was trying to hold on to her, but I wasn’t strong enough. She fell, and I lost her.”

“That doesn’t sound like it was your fault.”

“The worst part is she was vanshaj, and no one is going to care. Dozens died to save one, and they will all be forgotten.”

“It sounds like you were very brave,” he said, his voice like a tumble of weather-worn stones, the words fused with such certainty that some of the pressure in her chest released.

“Thank you,” she said as she let out another long breath.

They lay quietly for a few minutes, the rustling leaves and whirring insects creating a gently tuned symphony. She studied his profile as he stared up at the sky. He was so achingly beautiful.

“How do we leave this place?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Do you want to leave?” He turned to look at her again.

“No. I don’t.” Their eyes locked, and Zarya marveled at the muted slivers of gold in his gaze, warmth blooming in her stomach.

“I’m not sure how. This is all a mystery to me,” he said as though resigned to some inevitable fate.

His hand now rested in the grass, inches from Zarya’s. Slowly, she stretched out her arm and curled one finger around his pinky. He blinked, pausing for a heartbeat, his stare never wavering as he folded his large hand around hers.

Zarya sighed in relief as her tired eyelids finally fluttered closed.

The last thing she remembered was the warmth of Rabin’s hand, safe and calm, before she spun away into the welcoming arms of sleep.

TWENTY-THREE

The queen continued to live under Koura’s constant care and attention, but she teetered precariously on the edge of life as Daragaab held its breath. Without the power of Niramaya, Koura and his helpers were pushed to the limits of their skill with little success. Only Tarin’s particular vein of astomi earth magic seemed capable of rendering any sort of improvement on the beloved queen.

No one knew what had caused the fire that had rendered her nearly helpless. For now, the queen’s magic was holding on, keeping the enchantment that guarded the city in place, but it felt like they were all straddling an ever-widening crack.

Zarya’s shifts with the Khada had been anything but boring, the demons attacking with vigor, as if they could sense the queen’s power was failing. On her nights off, she’d listen to the screeches in the distance, waiting for the alarm that signaled a breach.

She hadn’t thought about leaving Dharati in a while—she’d been too distracted by the people she’d met and the life she’d been finally living, savoring every drop like they were the last ones scraped from a dry well. With the city lingering between stability and ruin, she knew she couldn’t run. She was only one person, but every pair of hands was one more chance against the blight.

It had been almost a week since the fire, and Zarya lay on the divan in the haveli’s living room, staring out a window that overlooked the sea. Lost in her thoughts, she also couldn’t get her last encounter in the dream forest with Rabin out of her head.

Who was he? While she’d learned his name, she knew nothing else about him. Why did they keep meeting there? Did he truly not understand it, either, or was he lying to her? Something in her gut told her he was being honest, but even with her limited experience, she knew not to trust the words of a strange man who kept appearing in her dreams. No matter how beautiful he was or how he caused that liquid flutter in the pit of her stomach.

She could still feel the warmth of his skin against hers, his rough fingers caressing her hand, and yet, she wondered if he was real or some phantom conjured from the hallows of her overactive imagination.

What if she’d created him out of her sense of loneliness? What if the entire thing was simply a product of her eroding sanity? Sure, she’d escaped Row’s prison, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a lifetime of trauma to overcome. And she’d always been very good at spinning fantasies in her head.

She still hadn’t had the time or space to fully process the effects of a life lived chained to a proverbial yoke, but it would be foolish to think that the concealed shadows of her past wouldn’t come out to haunt her someday.

Eventually, she’d have to face down those demons, but right now, she needed answers. About where Row had gone and what he’d been hiding. Focusing on this goal settled the voices in her head that told her she was a broken woman held together by fraying threads who would somehow need to be put back together.

She rubbed her chest. Ever since the fire, it had felt like a band was squeezing her ribs, making it increasingly harder to catch her breath. A tight cluster sat behind her heart, wrenching tighter and tighter. Her temple pulsed, and her legs and arms ached as if she’d just endured a strenuous bout of training. She blamed her nights on the wall, but the soreness seemed more persistent than usual.

Maybe she’d inhaled more smoke than she realized, or maybe she just needed more sleep. She considered asking the palace healers, but they were still run off their feet, healing those who’d sustained far worse injuries, and she didn’t want to add to their burden.

She grunted at a stab of pain as her ribs contracted again.