Page 9 of Heart of Night and Fire

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. No. She was never going back. The anger. The hurt. The frustration. The loneliness of her captive existence. This was only a bout of nerves—the swamp always made her edgy, and the desire for freedom outweighed her need for security right now. The last thing she wanted was to be dragged back to her prison with this brief taste of liberty curdling on her tongue.

In the fading daylight, she focused her senses, alert to the things that inhabited the swamp. The worst she’d ever encountered were the vetalas—humanoid demons that feasted on human flesh and possessed unnatural strength. They hadn’t seen one around the cottage in years—Row said they preferred to gather in areas of denser population—but that didn’t mean she was safe out here in her solitude.

Weary and sore, Zarya’s heart leaped when the outline of a house appeared in the falling light, and she urged Ojas towards it. As she approached, she saw it was one of several cottages ringing a tiny village. The homes sat dark and empty, their walls and roofs mimicking the black and dreary canvas of the forest.

Chills dimpled Zarya’s flesh as she dismounted and eased open the door of the closest house. It stood mostly empty, only a few scattered belongings—a teapot, a stained pillow, a broken chair—littering the floor.

She tied Ojas up next to a patch of blackened grass on which he promptly began feasting. She watched him, hoping it wasn’t toxic, but there was nothing else, so she didn’t stop him. In her haste to leave this morning, she’d failed to consider the horse’s needs.

Drawing out Row’s sword from her saddle, she held it aloft and went to search the other homes, relieved to find them all empty.

When she’d completed her surveillance, she circled to the first house and laid out her cloak to cushion the hard floor. She then sat against the wall and pulled out the roti and channa masala she had packed that morning. After stretching out her sore neck, she tore off a piece of flatbread and scooped up a mouthful of curried chickpeas.

But just as she brought the food to her mouth, her stomach twisted, like a fist closing around her intestines, stealing her appetite. She dropped the food back in its container, deciding to forgo supper tonight.

She pulled up her knees and rested her head against the wall, thinking of Row and Aarav. If they’d already returned to the cottage, they would have come home to a cold stove and no dinner. Not that they expected her to wait on them—Row helped when he was around, and Aarav feigned usefulness—but the household tasks naturally fell to her. She hated it. The monotony. The tediousness. The absolute lack of adventure.

Glowering out the window, she watched the last of the day’s light fade. It had been a prison, or no better than one. For a crime she had never committed. They had kept her in a cage for almost twenty-one years, refusing to tell her why. She had no idea where she’d come from. No friends, no family, no true companionship. No one with whom to share her thoughts and dreams. She’d never experienced the magic and wonder of the world. She’d never even been properly kissed.

Sure, there had been that one boy in Lahar with whom she’d had a few hurried fumbles, hiding behind the boats in his father’s shed. But he’d fucked her without passion, and it had been over before she knew it. It wasn’t anything like the stories she’d read. Either those had been exaggerated with the freedom of literary license, or he’d been just as clueless as she was. In her optimism, she chose to believe it was the second reason and that she was just waiting to meet the right person who would make her knees go weak with a single look.

Whatever the case, Zarya had read enough of those stories to know she desperately wanted to be kissed in a way that mattered. And then fall recklessly, passionately in love. She would never settle for anything less.

With that thought in mind, she pulled out her novel and flipped through the pages, turning to the parts she’d underlined. Namely, the naughty bits she was sure Row had no idea existed when he’d chosen these books for her.

But tonight, not even the promise of stolen kisses under moonlight could settle the anxiety thrumming in her veins. Tonight, the swamp seemed heavier and more oppressive than usual, the air distended with its unnatural silence. She kept Row’s sword on the ground next to her within easy reach. Just in case.

Despite every worry and misgiving she had right now, she was sure leaving had been the right choice.

If Row found her, she’d kill herself before she’d let him drag her back to the cottage. She would fight like a demon to get away. Admittedly, it was hard to completely silence the lifetime of warnings he’d burdened her with, but she would take her chances with whatever waited out here—anything was better than her cage.

With a kernel of resentment popping in her heart, Zarya spread out the edge of her cloak and tried to force her mind towards more comforting thoughts.

Perhaps today marked the beginning of something auspicious. A life defined by friendship and love rather than secrets and loneliness. Maybe she’d find a family. Maybe a friend. Or maybe she’d meet a handsome warrior. Stories of brave heroes falling in love were her favorite kind.

As night waned on, she tried to sleep, but every crack of a branch or rustle of leaves had her jumping with nervousness. Her chin dipped against her chest for what felt like a thousand times before the first rays of sun became visible through the window. She was exhausted, but she had to keep moving lest Row or Aarav catch up to her. Now that daylight crept upon the forest, she felt more confident about venturing back into the trees.

Her stomach growled in protest, and Zarya reached for her abandoned dinner. But the queasiness from yesterday persisted, the sight of the food making her stomach flip. Instead, she settled for a gulp of tepid water from her canteen and hoped this nausea would pass soon.

Another noise stirred her attention, her focus snapping to the doorway of the house.

Slowly, she reached for Row’s sword and eased up to stand with one hand braced on the wall. Footsteps squelched in the mud, the sound drawing closer to her hiding place. Zarya swore under her breath, realizing Ojas’s presence would tell the intruder that someone was nearby. There were only two small windows, neither large enough to accommodate an escape. She was trapped in here.

She crept closer to the door, trying to peer around the corner. A figure appeared, filling the doorway.

She reacted instantly, slamming into the intruder with a shoulder to their chest, attempting to knock them aside before she took off running.

“Zarya?” choked out a familiar voice.

She stopped in her tracks, spinning around.

“Fuck! Aarav! What are you doing? Why are you sneaking up on me?”

“What am I doing?” He rubbed his chest, his body hunched and his eyes blazing. They both lifted their blades, pointing them at one another. “What are you doing out here? And why do you have Ojas? For a minute, I thought you were Row.”

They faced off for several tension-filled heartbeats, neither willing to concede. But there was no point in them fighting out here right now. Still breathing heavily, Zarya lowered her sword, and then Aarav eventually did the same.

“So, you didn’t find him?” she asked.