Page 77 of Heart of Night and Fire

“Yes, between me and Vikram, silly. Surely, he told you. We’ve been promised for years!”

Amrita giggled again and hugged Zarya tight as thunder roared in her ears. Vowing? Promised? Vikram was marrying Amrita?

Aarav blanched and stared at Zarya, his mouth slightly open. She stiffened as Amrita gestured to the wide central staircase.

“I’ll show you to your rooms,” she said breathlessly as she led the way, oblivious to the reaction of her guests.

Promised. Vikram was promised. To a princess.

Aarav moved closer to Zarya and leaned in, speaking in a low voice. “Do you want me to kill him? ’Cause I will.”

Zarya looked up at him, bewildered. Her mouth opened and then closed as Amrita took her hand and dragged her up the stairs.

Their rooms were situated across the hall from one another, with Zarya’s sitting at the back of the manor overlooking a garden to rival the one out front. Emerald and gold silk lined the walls, against which sat a large four-poster bed made of pale wood, while a set of glass doors led to a wide, curving balcony.

Zarya stepped outside, hoping to relieve the building pressure in her chest. But the afternoon was sultry, and the air stood still as the sun beat down, making her want to jump out of her skin.

After retreating to the cooler interior, Amrita’s high voice carried from across the hall, where she was showing Aarav his room. He caught her eye through the door, and it was everything Zarya could do not to burst into tears. She poured herself a glass of water from a pitcher on the table, taking big gulps that did nothing to settle the roil in her gut.

Gods, she was such a fool. He’d lied to her. Played games with her. Tricked her into believing he cared about her all this time. Of course, she’d turned at the first handsome man to give her a second look. Maybe she belonged back at the seaside cottage, after all. Who did she think she was, going out into the world? She had no experience and no idea what she was doing.

With a sick feeling in her stomach, she started to piece things together. Now she understood why Yasen had been so angry that night at the peri anada. Zarya gripped the bedpost, her blood pounding.

“Oh my,” Amrita said, coming into the room. “You need something to eat. You’re awfully pale.” Zarya studied the princess, taking a proper look at her for the first time.

Amrita’s brown skin was gleaming and rich. A tumble of thick black curls framed an angelic round face and wide amber eyes. Her lips were pink and plump, and her ears swept up into delicate points. She was stunning.

“Come down to the dining room. Lunch is all set.”

Again, Amrita pulled Zarya with her. They ended up in a small wood-paneled room with a large table at the center. Zarya and Aarav sat down as Amrita and Diya joined them, and a parade of vanshaj arrived with platters of food. Tureens of chicken and lamb, swimming in glistening brown and orange sauces. High stacks of naan drizzled with butter. Fresh salads of tomato, coriander, and onion seasoned with pepper and lemon. A huge silver platter piled with sliced coconut, pineapple, mango, and ruby beads of pomegranate.

Amrita kept up a constant stream of chatter about the house and the gardens and the party tonight. Zarya felt so stupid. So used. Was she destined to be lied to by every man in her life?

No, Zarya thought. She had done this to herself. Trusting the first charming rakshasa to show her a bit of attention. All the warning signs had been there, and she’d ignored them, confident she knew enough. But she hadn’t.

“Huh?” Zarya looked up to find everyone around the table staring at her.

“Will you be my guest of honor at the party tonight?” Amrita had placed her hand on Zarya’s and turned towards her. There was zero pretense or calculation on her face. “Vik and Yasen speak so highly of you; I feel like we’re already friends.”

Zarya nodded, miserable. Clearly, Vikram had not only lied to Zarya but also to his sweet and trusting fiancée.

“Of course.” Zarya forced a smile. None of this was Amrita’s fault.

“Oh, wonderful!” She clapped her hands together. “Then you’ll sit with me, and you’ll tell me all about the trouble those boys get up to when they aren’t at the palace.”

Aarav choked on his water, spitting it out and coughing until his face turned purple. Zarya gave him a sharp look.

“Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe,” he croaked.

After a lunch that lasted three hundred years, Zarya extricated herself, locking herself in her room where she paced. The room was stifling, growing hot in the afternoon sun. Diya had said clothes had been provided, and Zarya dug into the closet for something cooler to wear. She found a light dress made of yellow silk that swept to the floor, leaving her back and shoulders exposed.

A knock sounded at the door, and Zarya opened it to find Aarav shuffling from foot to foot, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Uh, so, are you… okay, or what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down the hallway as if hoping someone would come to rescue him from this conversation.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Aarav,” she snapped, anger shortening her temper.