Page 18 of Dance of Stars and Ashes

“It’s generally considered rude to ask that amongst Aazheri.” Row gave her an amused look.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” She hated how little she knew about everything.

“In my case, they’re animals,” he said. “A whale for water, a bear for earth, a serpent for fire, an owl for air, and a maiden for spirit.”

“That’s incredible,” Zarya said, her eyes widening. “Mine is a star.”

Row inhaled a sharp breath.

“Your mother saw stars, too.”

“She did?” The question piqued something hopeful in that empty space behind her heart. For the first time ever, she belonged to someone. Even if her mother was gone, a piece of her lived inside Zarya. That knowledge was the greatest gift Row had ever given her.

“I want to know about my mother,” Zarya said. “Tell me what she was like.”

Row smiled with the corner of his mouth, some fond memory passing over his gaze.

“She was fierce. And strong and very brave,” he said. “You remind me so much of her.”

“You mean stubborn and pigheaded then,” Zarya said, and Row laughed.

Who was this man with this easy posture and this soft chuckle? Was this who he’d always been, but she’d been too angry to see it? Had he changed in these past months? Or maybe she was the one who’d changed.

“She loved to dance,” he said. “And sing. She had a beautiful voice. I think if she hadn’t been a queen, she would have sought out the theater. She also loved to paint, though she never had time once she took the crown.”

Zarya liked hearing that. “Did she like reading?”

Row shook his head. “She did, but not as much as you.”

“I suppose she had a real life to live and didn’t have to invent one in her head,” Zarya said.

She wanted to ask Row more about his relationship with her mother and the love they’d shared but assumed it would be too personal. Maybe in time, he’d trust her with those stories, too.

Row gave her a long look and then cleared his throat. “Aazheri sense their anchors in different places in their bodies, too,” he said. “I see mine in my head.”

Zarya placed a hand over her chest. “Mine are in my heart.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“I’d say the same about you.”

They exchanged a look edged with something new and soft, like the seeds of a dandelion, delicate and easily dispersed. But maybe they could capture them and build a relationship where they might tease one another and behave like equals. Like family, instead of a man and his captive.

She hadn’t forgiven him yet but was also growing weary of the grudge she’d worn like a stain for so long. The acidic taste of resentment burned through her tongue. She wanted to be better than this. Without the walls of the cottage pressing in on every side, maybe their relationship could find room to breathe.

“All Aazheri magic follows the same principle,” Row continued. “Every spell is a combination of elements drawn together at varying strengths to create the desired effect.”

He lifted his hand, and a blue flame burned in his palm.

“For example, I can create this with a combination of fire and air, conjuring a fire hot enough to melt through even the most impenetrable materials.”

Zarya watched as he concentrated on the flame, making it turn green before it exploded into a shower of leaves that tumbled into his lap.

“Add in a little earth, and you get something entirely different,” he said. “It’s hard to teach because everyone’s magic is so different. There’s a lot of trial and error involved in the process. After all these years, I still discover nuances and tweaks that help refine my power.”

“How old are you, anyway?” she asked.

He tilted his head, studying her. “You’ve never asked me that before.”