Page 112 of Storm of Ink and Blood

They nodded. “We have,” Zarya said. “Many times.”

“Tell me about it.”

Rabin listened as Zarya described the dream forest.

When she was done, Thriti looked at Rabin. “And you’ve also been able to control it?”

“I have.” He bowed at the waist. The mystic radiated a sort of quiet power and authority he couldn’t help but respect.

“That is very difficult for paramadhar.”

“I had guidance from a powerful Aazheri.”

She dipped her chin as if accepting that answer.

“And you both understand what this means? The limitations and consequences of this bond?”

“We do,” he said solemnly.

“It’s been lifetimes since I performed my last Bandhan,” she said, studying them for another moment. “I almost believed that old magic had died out completely.”

“What do you think it means if it’s returned?” Zarya asked, and he tried not to let the hope in her voice bother him. She was still trying to find a way to convince herself this was right.

Thriti turned to her. “I can’t say for sure, but when magic disappears or returns, it’s always for a reason.”

Zarya nodded. He watched her swallow and blink rapidly as if trying to hold in her tears. He kept his eyes on her as Thriti moved to a workbench, where she started shifting various pots and pans and began mixing ingredients together.

Zarya’s gaze flicked to him, and he noted the glossy sheen in her eyes. What did those tears represent? She clung to so many layers of emotions and feelings that sometimes it was difficult to read her.

“Is there any chance we’re not paramadhar and masatara?” Zarya asked, turning back to Thriti, who continued working. Rabin tried to ignore the painful twist in his chest again.

The mystic stopped and looked back. “It certainly sounds like it. But the marks will only take effect if you are, regardless.”

“And if we aren’t?” This time there was a thread of nervousness in her voice.

“Then you’ll have a nice bit of decoration on your skin.”

“Oh,” Zarya said, and Rabin hoped that was disappointment he sensed this time.

“You’ll need to choose an object or a symbol to connect you,” she called over her shoulder as she ground something with a mortar and pestle. “It can be anything, but it’s best if it’s something personal.”

They both paused as their gazes locked. He watched something flicker behind her eyes.

“A dragon,” Zarya said a moment later. “What do you think?”

She gave him a raw look that rattled something loose in his chest before it slotted into the hole he carried beneath his ribs.

A dragon. Something that was important to them both.

“Just like the one you have?”

“Do you already have a marking?” Thriti asked, again looking over her shoulder.

He pulled up the side of his kurta to reveal the dragon tattooed on his skin.

She approached and touched it with cool fingers.

“This was done by a mystic with great skill.”