Page 101 of Storm of Ink and Blood

He banked left, looping around the palace, reminding Vikram and his father, wherever the bastard was at that moment, they could never touch him up here. No matter how much they might hate him, in the sky, he was free. In the sky, he was home.

“Rabin!” Zarya screamed. “Get Koura!”

Rabin spied the healer weaving through the trees, trying to find an open spot where Rabin could pick him up. They couldn’t risk stopping or spending even a moment on the ground. Daragaab’s army was, no doubt, already headed this way.

Rabin dove, swooping towards Koura and brushing the ground. He snatched Koura in his talons before lunging into the air again.

Then, just for good measure, he took another wide circle around Dharati, threw his head back, and roared before pointing west and towards Gi’ana.

Zarya clung to Rabin as he banked left and then right through the air. Once they cleared the sight of Daragaab, Rabin landed so Koura could climb onto his back. After they were all seated again and as comfortable as someone could be in this position, they took off, flying towards Ishaan and the next battle that awaited them.

Zarya thought of the notebook in her pocket, despairing she hadn’t been able to copy the entire text and hoping what she had was enough. If they hadn’t discovered anything new, they would have stoked Vikram’s ire, and this entire mission would have been for nothing. Now he would be even angrier, and they could never return to Daragaab for help. She only wished she could have seen Amrita again.

She peered over her shoulder at Row and Koura, who both sat low, clinging to Rabin. This certainly wasn’t what she had planned, but neither could remain in Daragaab, and she was responsible for that. So as much as she hadn’t wanted Row joining her in Ishaan, she had little choice.

It was warmer than the last time Zarya had ridden on Rabin, and she closed her eyes, savoring the cool air against her warm cheeks. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been sweating with nerves and the chase through the palace.

Nothing had gone as planned.

They swooped over the countryside, the Pathara Vala Mountains spreading across the northern horizon. Zarya squinted as she peered into their depths, imagining the range of mountains circling Andhera. She’d casually done some reading on the northern kingdom, discovering it was very remote, bordered by snow and trees and uncrossable mountain paths.

Zarya thought about this place that was a part of her more times than she could count. What if Abishek wasn’t who Row claimed? What if Rabin was right about him? No one would replace the role Row had played in her life, but something about the man with whom she shared blood made something knot at the back of her throat.

After a few hours, Rabin lost altitude, and Zarya looked ahead to the walls of Ishaan, looming far in the distance. They’d crossed into Gi’ana and the miles of farmland and forest surrounding the city.

Rabin tipped forward, aiming for the earth before he landed with a gentle thump. Zarya and the others slid off his back before he dissolved into a puff of smoke, returning to his rakshasa form.

“We’ll have to walk,” he said. “I don’t want to attract attention by flying too close.”

“It’s not a problem,” Koura said while he stared up at the sky as if searching for meaning in the dimming stars. Zarya was exhausted but kept her complaints to herself as they trudged through the forest.

As they marched in single file down a narrow path, she kept an eye out for that black rot she’d encountered earlier. The voices and visions haunted her every time she closed her eyes. She thought of the flash that had signaled the presence of a demon, but surely if any were lingering around Ishaan, someone would have raised an alert by now?

Nevertheless, the guilt of harboring this secret nagged at her thoughts.

She couldn’t disquiet the insistent voice suggesting that Abishek might be the only one who could offer the answers she sought. He did not fear the darkness. He embraced it. Welcomed it. He was like her. Maybe he’d understand this strange thing happening to her. More importantly, maybe he would know what to do about it.

As they continued down the path, she made out the shadow of blackened leaves in the distance. If she hadn’t been searching for it, it would have been easy to dismiss them as nothing but a trick of the light, but Zarya knew what she saw.

She stumbled over a root in her distraction, catching herself against a tree.

“Zarya?” came two voices—Row and Rabin—both of them approaching before they glared at one another.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little tired. It’s been a long night.”

“I can carry you,” Rabin said, and Zarya held up a hand.

“Don’t you dare. We’re almost there.”

She rallied herself and pushed off the tree, stomping along the path.

When they entered Ishaan, the city was already rising for the day. The smells of fresh baking wafted along the streets, and dozens of merchants were already setting up their wares for the market.

They skirted past the activity, making their way through the city, passing walls plastered with posters, all depicting the supposed likeness of Yasen and Zarya, offering even more money for their whereabouts. It spoke to the desperation of the Madans and their continued failure in rooting out the resistance.

Row stopped and studied the papers, rubbing his chin with a hand. “Is this supposed to be you and Yasen?”

Zarya looked around, ensuring no one was within earshot. “Will you be quiet?”