Page 79 of Heart of Night and Fire

Vanshaj bustled about, laden with trays of food and drinks, giant vases of flowers, bolts of fabric, and even the occasional live bird contained in a gilded cage. Aarav waited at the bottom of the stairs, his posture stiff in a crisp sherwani. He shifted in his golden chappals, clearly uncomfortable in the tailored garments, but Zarya admired the knee-length jacket made of deep green velvet, along with the fitted beige pants.

“We clean up nicely,” Zarya said, smiling at him.

“You’re in a better mood.”

Zarya shrugged. “I’ve had a few glasses of wine.” She laughed at his expression. “Lighten up. What do you think I did all those nights you and Row left me alone?”

His eyes darkened, and she laid a hand on his arm.

“Aarav, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier. I was upset, and I took it out on you.”

Aarav blinked a few times, and Zarya realized she’d never apologized to him after one of their arguments. A twist of guilt drilled into her gut. Maybe she needed to take more responsibility for the state of their relationship.

“It’s okay. I meant it when I said I’d kill him for you. Just say the word,” he replied, his tone light, but there was a coldness in it that released something in Zarya’s heart at his violent but brotherly sentiment.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said with a half-smile. “Shall we?”

A young vanshaj man at the bottom of the stairs directed them towards the dining hall, where the night’s festivities would soon begin. Inside, they found a long table running through the center, laden with flowers and golden plates rimmed in royal blue. At the front, a raised platform held four chairs that faced the other diners.

They were escorted to their seats, joining the dozens of other guests, many surreptitiously glancing at Zarya and Aarav with a range of expressions, from cool and indifferent to warm and curious.

Pale green cocktails with mint leaves floating in delicate crystal glasses were placed in front of them as more guests filed in. The drink reminded Zarya of the night they’d spent at the peri anada, where Vikram had kissed her with such passion. Her festive mood darkened a little at the memory, and she gestured for a refill.

Before long, the table was full of elegantly dressed courtiers, including several stunning fairies, who were dressed a little more conservatively than those she’d seen at the peri anada. But only just, Zarya mused, as she took in a female fairy with pale pink skin and hair, wearing a choli cut so low that her ample breasts were hovering on the edge of exposure. Next to her sat a handsome rakshasa with a pinched expression, who leaned over and brushed his lips to her throat, his tongue darting out like a frog. The fairy made a sound of pleasure, but her smile was noticeably tight. Zarya wrinkled her nose.

A hush descended on the diners as a greying man in a green sherwani stepped forward and cleared his throat. In a booming voice, he cried, “Make way for the nawab and his illustrious family!

“Rise for her Royal Highness Rajkumari Amrita Vasvi and his esteemed Nawabzada Vikram Ravana.”

Zarya took a deep breath as the couple entered the room. Amrita was even more beautiful than earlier, wearing a dusty-rose sari embroidered with silver. Bubbling with excitement, she bounced as she clung to Vikram’s arm. As handsome as usual, his black hair fell in waves around his ears, and his honed soldier’s body was clad in a gold-accented royal blue sherwani with a red sash running across his body.

Behind them, Yasen walked in unannounced, his hand on his sword hilt as he scanned the crowd, scowling at everyone. He wore a sherwani similar to Vikram’s but with fewer adornments. The blue was perfect against his silver hair.

The soon-to-be royal couple made their way down the room, pausing along the way to bow and shake hands with their guests. Yasen was the first to notice Zarya amongst the crowd. His eyes flicked between Zarya and Aarav before he froze. His face twisted with concentration, and she could practically hear him trying to warn Vikram with his mind.

Yasen caught her eye as she gave a small nod—yes, she knew, and she wasn’t planning to make a scene. Yasen relaxed a breath.

Vikram noticed Aarav first, and his brow creased before he looked across the table to where Zarya stood, the blood draining from his face. With her hand planted on her hip, she raised an eyebrow at him, noticing his grip on Amrita tighten.

Amrita squealed as they approached. “Look who came! Diya found them in the city yesterday and sent the carriage for them. She told them to keep it a surprise. And aren’t you surprised, Vikram? You’ve told me so much about them, and I knew you’d be so happy. Aren’t you happy?”

Amrita turned her bright eyes to her fiancé, who gave her a strained smile and pecked her on the cheek. “Of course I’m happy. What a wonderful surprise, my beautiful rajkumari. Aarav, Zarya, how nice you could join us.”

With his smile struggling to find his eyes, Vikram offered a stiff bow and settled Amrita into the chair next to Zarya. Everyone followed suit and Zarya found herself between Amrita and Yasen, with Vikram and Aarav across the table.

Vikram’s complexion had shifted from ashen to a pale shade of green, as though he was precariously close to vomiting on the golden plates. At the front of the room, the next members of the Ravana family were being introduced.

“Please rise for the most elegant, beautiful, and charming Begum Jasmine Ravana, Begum Diya Ravana, and Begum Vamika Ravana accompanied by the most exalted, virile, glorious, and powerful Nawab Gopal Ravana.”

“Wow, he’s laying it on a little thick,” Zarya muttered under her breath, and Yasen choked on a laugh.

Three female rakshasas entered, all clad in varying shades of blue. Diya walked next to a tall, slender rakshasa with dark mahogany hair, light brown eyes, and sharp, high cheekbones. They were accompanied by a curvy third rakshasa with inky black hair and dark blue eyes, a vacant expression on her face.

Behind them walked Vikram’s father with the same tousled black locks and the same emerald eyes. But where Vikram’s face was kind and open, the nawab looked like the kind of man who boiled baby monkeys for pleasure. The procession of four made their way to the elevated head table at the front of the room, settling in a line facing their guests. As the nawab took his place, vanshaj servants leaped into action, and platters of food started to stream in.

“Aren’t you surprised? This is just so exciting.” Amrita beamed at Vikram.

“Very,” he said, practically choking on the word.