Page 5 of Dance of Stars and Ashes

“It’s going to be great,” Zarya said, hoping she didn’t sound like she was overcompensating, and hooked her arm through her friend’s. “And look, now we have an escort made up of two of Daragaab’s most capable soldiers.”

Zarya heard Yasen’s snort but ignored it.

Rabin might be a dick, but it was obvious he knew what he was doing. As much as she didn’t want him around, she had to concede they’d probably be a little safer with him watching their backs. Well, he’d watch Amrita’s back. He’d just stab Zarya right through the heart and step over her corpse.

Finally, they approached a gate that deposited them into a narrow alley running alongside the palace. The street was quiet as they approached the end, where the bustling city was in full swing for the evening.

When Zarya saw the way Amrita’s face lit up at the sights and sounds, she knew she’d made the right call in stealing the princess away for a few harmless hours. Amrita squeezed Zarya’s hand as she scanned their surroundings.

“I’ve never been out here alone at night,” Amrita whispered. “It’s like an entirely different world.”

Zarya grinned and then turned to Yasen. “Okay, lead the way.”

He tipped his head, his gaze sliding to Rabin for a moment as if he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Ignore him,” Zarya said, spinning them around so their backs were pointed towards Rabin. “If he wants to play the role of our shadow, that’s his choice, but he should remember that no one invited him.”

Zarya didn’t think Rabin was the kind of man who really cared that he hadn’t been invited, but it felt good to say, nonetheless.

Yasen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go, then.”

He took the lead, winding them through the crowded streets as Amrita came alive. After the attack, she had spent an entire day crying. It had been all anyone could do to get her to stop or at least take a break.

It was hard to believe the attack had only been days ago as the streets surged with activity. There was evidence of the destruction all over—ruined buildings and piles of rubble and flowers laid out to honor the dead—but it hadn’t taken long for everyone to settle back into normal routines. It wasn’t due to callousness or any lack of affection for those who’d lost their lives, but rather, it was their way of coping.

By continuing. By existing in the face of whatever darkness hunted them all.

Zarya supposed the fact the demons seemed to have been cowed into relative submission had helped. People were very good at pretending everything was settled on the surface when it made it easier to get through their days.

Eventually, they arrived at a wide building with a white marble facade. Like many of the more ornate buildings in Dharati, it had been carved with an intricate pattern of flowers and leaves and vines.

Outside stood two giant rakshasas, bulging with muscle, who guarded the door. As Zarya and her companions approached, the rakshasas eyed their party, scanning them from head to toe.

Zarya noticed the moment they saw Rabin, their eyes widening a fraction before their chins dipped slightly in acknowledgment. Something about that annoyed Zarya. The way he commanded respect from everyone else.

She recalled a story Yasen had told her about Daragaab’s former army commander, who had spent one hundred and fifty years fighting to expand their territory, and realized he’d been speaking about Rabin. She supposed all the falling to their knees made some sense in that case.

She kept her back towards Rabin so she didn’t have to look at his smug, perfect face.

“How many?” one of the rakshasas asked Yasen, who held up a hand.

“Four of us.”

“What is this place?” Amrita asked as the rakshasas stood to the side, allowing them in.

Zarya smiled at her friend and winked.

“This is where you get to live a little.”

TWO

They entered the dim peri anada, blinking at the abrupt shift from the brightly lit street. Amrita clung to Zarya’s hand as they pushed aside the beaded curtain, revealing a large circular room sectioned off with white curtains—some opaque and some translucent enough to reveal a very specific form of entertainment.

Through one curtain, Zarya observed a writhing silhouette—a woman straddling a man’s hips as she rode him with her back arched and her breasts thrust proudly out. They moved in a practiced dance, churning back and forth like a toy boat tossed in the waves of the sea. The sight stirred something warm and liquid deep in her stomach.

“This is… different from the last place you took us,” Zarya said to Yasen, who’d come to stand on her other side. She whispered the words softly as though she were afraid to draw attention to their presence.

“Vikram insisted on a tamer version of a peri anada that night. Training shoes, if you will. There are varying degrees of what an anada can offer. Some are just for dancing, while others allow you to explore all your dirtiest and most depraved fantasies.”