Page 92 of Heart of Night and Fire

He gave her a tight smile.

“Who do you think they are?” Zarya asked, returning to the vision she’d just conjured. “What happened to her sister and her parents? My aunt? My grandparents?”

“I have no idea,” he said, staring up at the darkened sky. “But they must have lived in Gi’ana.”

“Really? How can you tell?”

“From the way they’re dressed. That’s the style there.”

Zarya mouthed the word. Gi’ana.

The western realm ruled by King Adarsh, at least until he passed the crown to his daughter. She uncrossed her legs and lay down in the grass next to Yasen. The peri arranged themselves around them, mimicking Yasen’s position with their hands behind their heads as they all watched the stars above.

“Have you ever wondered who your father was?” she asked him.

At first, he didn’t answer, and she wondered if she should apologize for touching a sore spot. But then he said, “Every day of my life.”

“You need the Bayangoma, too.”

“The what?”

“It’s a story Row used to tell me about birds who know secrets. I always wished they could help me find out who my parents were. Maybe they could do the same for you.”

Yasen was quiet for another moment.

“Yeah. That would be nice.”

THIRTY-TWO

When Zarya and Yasen returned to the manor, dinner was still in full swing. Mouth-watering aromas and strains of music filled the corridors, and it was clear the festivities would carry on well into the night.

“Do you want to go in?” Yasen asked. “We’re both dressed for it.”

She shook her head. “I’m kind of tired. I think I’d rather get some sleep.”

“Okay. I’ll make your excuses. I should head back in for a while.”

“Thank you.”

After bidding Yasen goodnight, she returned to her room. Using her magic had been a drain on her already wearied system, and suddenly she was exhausted. She noticed someone had come to dim the lights and turn down the covers. The bed looked so inviting that she walked over and lay down, intending to close her eyes for just a moment before she changed.

She stared at the ceiling, thinking about what she’d seen in the time bubble.

Gi’ana. Was that where her family lived? Were they still there? Her mother and father must have been Aazheri, too. Professor Dhawan’s book said Aazheri were born of two magical parents. After floating adrift for so long, Zarya was experiencing a distinct sense of coming together. Scattered pieces finding themselves amongst the layers.

It all meant something.

Her captivity. The mystery of her family. The secret of her magic. These were not spontaneous events. They were connected and woven like intricate silk rugs, the pattern yet to reveal itself.

It felt only like a few moments later that she opened her eyes and found herself lying on the grass inside the dream forest.

A rush stole through her, goosebumps peppering her skin.

Finally.

Every night before falling asleep, she’d hoped for it. Her earlier exhaustion melted away in the face of breathless anticipation. She pushed herself up, dusting off bits of grass that clung to her sari and peered into the darkness of the trees, searching for any sign of movement.

For any sign of him.