Page 67 of Dance of Stars and Ashes

Zarya landed on a chapter about paramadhar—conduits who acted as tethers for powerful Aazheri. The text described them as something like a magical servant or squire. Paramadhar had the ability to not only enhance the magic of their master but they could also take on their injuries or sickness and make them their own. In some cases, they could even heal their master, communicate through their minds, and sense each other’s feelings.

Beyond just magic, paramadhar could also amplify their master’s speed and strength. And when the Aazheri died, so did their paramadhar. The relationship was born from a deep emotional connection, though it wasn’t romantic in nature.

She chewed on the corner of her thumb, devouring a passage about how destined pairs could sense or even speak to one another across continents. Sometimes, finding each other in unlikely ways, often in the worlds existing between physical planes.

The seedlings of an idea took root in her mind.

The dream forest. It wasn’t a part of this world. Of that, she was sure.

Would that explain how she’d found Rabin? Did they hold some kind of strange connection? Something had drawn them together. The book also said the bond wasn’t romantic, and though she was loath to admit it, her feelings for him were definitely not ones of mere friendship or companionship. But maybe it explained why he didn’t return those feelings.

She sighed, realizing she would really have to get over him.

She read a few more pages about the Ashvins and their dark magic as the book recounted some of their worst sins. Mind control and stealing souls and using the threat of their raised demon armies of nairrata to enslave and threaten anyone who tried to defy their wishes.

A knock interrupted her reading, and she considered ignoring it, wanting to be alone to stew in her thoughts, but the pounding persisted.

She waited, hoping that Row or Aarav would answer it, but neither was home as usual. Finally, Zarya hauled herself up and opened the door to find Yasen with a smile on his face.

“What?” she asked, letting him in.

“I see you’re still in a sparkling mood,” he said, and she grunted before she headed for the kitchen, hoping to find something strong to drink to numb her brain.

“I’ve come to rescue you from this spiral into self-loathing,” Yasen declared.

Zarya rummaged around in the cupboard, producing a bottle half-filled with dark liquid.

“Aha,” she said, finding a glass and pouring herself a measure.

“Come on. The begums Ravana are throwing a fancy supper in the courtyard, and we’re going,” Yasen said.

Zarya made a noncommittal sound before she downed the drink and then coughed at the burn searing up her throat. Yasen slapped her on the back, probably a bit harder than necessary. And also, she wasn’t actually choking.

“You can’t sit in here wallowing forever. There will be lots of wine. Good stuff. Not this swill.” Yasen picked up the bottle and sniffed it, pulling a face. “This could strip paint off the walls.”

“Fine,” Zarya said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “But don’t stop me from drinking it all.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She turned to face him, and he scanned her up and down.

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

Zarya looked down at herself. She’d been lying on the sofa most of the day in her wrinkled kurta, the hair piled on top of her head sharing many characteristics with a rat’s nest.

“I have to get changed, too?” she asked, and Yasen rolled his eyes.

“It’s a nice thing with fancy people. Yes, you need to change. You can’t show up there looking like something a cat dragged in.”

“You’re making this seem far less appealing,” she said. “What if I want to wallow here in my filth?”

“You can do that tomorrow. Tonight, you’re pretending you’re a civilized member of this city.”

He reached over and scraped a spot near the corner of her mouth with his fingernail, dislodging a crust of food that had pasted itself to her skin.

“Revolting,” he said, flicking it to the floor with a shudder.

“Fine. Point taken. Give me a few minutes.” She poured another glass of the liquor and then thrust it against his chest. “Have a drink while you wait.”