Page 78 of Heart of Night and Fire

He opened his mouth, looking even more uncomfortable, before he wedged his foot right in and said, “I did say he was trouble from the beginning.”

“You did?” Zarya clenched her jaw.

“Yes. Why do you think I wanted you to come back to the cottage? So things like this wouldn’t happen.” His voice rose, and she grew angrier.

“This is not my fault.”

“I’m just saying—”

“How about you say nothing and get away from me? As usual, your presence is neither needed nor desired, Aarav.”

Zarya slammed the door in his face as hard as she could. A moment later, she heard Aarav’s door bang across the hall. She huffed and crossed her arms, pacing the length of the room again. She should leave. Go back to the city. Disappear into its masses. She didn’t need any of this.

She wanted to yell. To pick up the expensive-looking vase on the dresser and smash it into a million pieces. Zarya ground her teeth, her pulse racing, and then shook her head.

No, she wasn’t going to let Vikram squirm out of this and make it easy for him by disappearing. She would stay and he would face the consequences of his actions. This wasn’t her fault, and Zarya would not be the one to run and hide.

TWENTY-EIGHT

With preparations for the evening’s celebrations well underway, the manor house hummed with activity. Zarya heard the sounds of hurried footsteps and barked orders as the servants scurried about their duties.

She lay on the bed feeling sorry for herself as the smells from the kitchen wafted through the floor, causing her stomach to growl. She had barely eaten lunch, only pushing the food around on her plate, and was now ravenous for dinner.

A knock came at her door, and a young vanshaj woman stood on the other side holding a platter with samosas and a bottle of pale pink wine.

“Would my lady care for a snack?”

Zarya opened the door wider and invited her inside. “Yes. Thank you.”

The woman’s eyes were downcast as she entered. She wore a salwar kameez in royal blue, edged with silver, and a blue chiffon dupatta draped over her head. The ring of tattooed stars around her neck was so precise and black, Zarya felt like she could reach out and pluck one off.

Zarya couldn’t take her eyes away as her hand drifted to her own throat, something tugging at her memory.

The woman looked up at Zarya’s hand still lingering on her throat. She snatched it away, mortified to have been caught like that.

“I’m sorry,” Zarya said, “I didn’t mean—”

The woman held up both hands and pushed them in her direction as she shook her head. “It’s nothing. Please enjoy your food.”

“Thank you,” Zarya said as the woman rushed away with her eyes down and her shoulders rounded. Zarya watched her leave, an uneasy ache blooming in her chest.

Her stomach grumbled again, and she reached for a stuffed pastry and poured herself a full glass of wine. Today wasn’t a day for moderation.

While she savored the delicious food, she sat back, still stewing in her thoughts.

Vikram had hurt her, but he also hadn’t made her any promises. Zarya didn’t know what falling in love was like, but she was pretty sure what she felt for Vikram wasn’t it just yet. Could it grow into something more? She wasn’t sure. She had wanted to be kissed, and she’d loved being kissed by him, but had she been reading into something that wasn’t there?

Regardless of what he did or didn’t feel, he shouldn’t have been kissing her at all. And when she saw him, she would make sure he would answer for that.

Now on her second glass of wine, she picked through the bedroom closet. Diya hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said they would provide everything. An array of colorful dresses hung in the wardrobe, each more elaborate and glittering than the last.

Zarya chose a golden silk lehenga covered in crystal beads and sequins with a choli that left her arms bare. The full skirt flared out to the ground in rivers of fabric and swathes of creamy lace, all of it accented in more beads.

She curled her hair and pinned it so it hung down her back before affixing a golden maang tikka along the center part with the small medallion resting on her forehead.

As she turned to study the mirror, Zarya had to admit she looked rather nice. She hoped the effect would produce a touch of remorse in Vikram, but more importantly, she hoped she’d meet someone even more handsome to dance with tonight. She wasn’t above inciting a small dose of jealousy. That was, if Vikram even cared. Maybe she’d been nothing but a conquest. A notch on his bedpost.

After polishing off the rest of her wine, Zarya made her way to the main floor.