Page 106 of Storm of Ink and Blood

“This isn’t your fault,” Zarya said. “They can’t do this.”

“Of course, they can,” Ajay said. “And they’re hoping this will draw out more of the Rising Phoenix.”

“Well, it’s working!” she said. “We can’t let them die because of something we did.”

“That’s it,” Rabin said. “Find out when they’re to be executed. You need as many vanshaj freed from their collars as possible by then. I’m talking thousands. Tens of thousands. Then we storm the palace. We mount a revolution.”

His very words made the air shiver with the promise of ruin and terrifying possibility.

“But we won’t have enough time,” Zarya said. “Even if they’d come, we’d need years to do that.”

“Then you’d better find a way to use your nightfire to break them,” he said, a challenge in his voice. There was no menace in it. No derision. Just the cold fact, and somehow, she knew that he believed she could. “And figure out how to convince the vanshaj you’re working in their best interests.”

She nodded as tension caught in her throat and tears pressed the backs of her eyes.

“We’ll get a message to Apsara and Suvanna,” Yasen said. “Maybe they can delay the execution and give us more time.”

Zarya paced back and forth as a thousand bleak thoughts crawled through her head.

This was her family. These awful people who would do this. This was the blood that ran in her veins. She’d always known family was more than something you acquired at birth. Family wasn’t always the people who bore you. And it certainly wasn’t the ones who acted like vicious tyrants killing innocent souls in a bid to cling to their power.

She stopped pacing and stared about the room.

Nitin clung to Vikas, sobbing into his shoulder.

“Zarya,” Vikas whispered.

“We won’t let them die,” she vowed. “I swear to you. I’ll kill every Madan myself if I have to.”

THIRTY-SIX

Over the next few days, Zarya spent all her time in the forest, trying to wrest control over her nightfire, ensuring she kept her distance from that menacing patch of black rot she’d been responsible for creating. She knew she couldn’t keep ignoring it, but she also had too many other worries vying for her attention.

She had certain types of control over the magic. What she wanted was a trickle, and it resembled a hose, spearing out beams of magic. She’d only used it defensively when survival depended on maximum impact.

But she couldn’t use this on a person. She’d kill them. She’d blow them apart. A fact that was evidenced by the remains of the decimated trees and bushes that formed a circle around the spot where Yasen and Zarya currently stood.

The night she’d used it in Dharati to suppress the demons, she’d avoided hurting anyone on the ground, but those had been different circumstances, and she couldn’t trust that again without specifically understanding what she’d done.

“This isn’t working,” she said.

“You think?” Yasen asked as he bent down and picked up a small branch that had been reduced to a sad, charred twig.

Zarya stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the destruction. “What am I going to do? We need thousands, Rabin said. Tens of thousands. How am I supposed to do that?” Her voice started to rise, the pitch growing frantic.

“Hey, hey,” Yasen said, striding over and wrapping his arms around her. She buried her face into his chest. “It’s going to be fine. The weight of the world isn’t on your shoulders. We’re all going to help.”

“But it is, Yas.” She looked up at him. “For some reason, I was chosen to fulfill this task. To free them. If I don’t do it, then who will?”

He opened his mouth and closed it. “I’m not sure.”

“See?” she asked, pushing off him. “If I can’t figure this out…”

Her heart twisted whenever she thought of Vikas’s parents and the other innocent people locked up in the palace. They had families who needed them. And now they were being held for the things Zarya and the Rising Phoenix had done. This had always been a risk. They knew the Madans would make an example of someone, but facing the reality of those consequences was proving even harder than she’d imagined.

She prayed the prisoners weren’t being mistreated, but it was a thin hope without much possibility.

“We’ll get them out of there, Zee,” Yasen said. “We will.”