Page 121 of Storm of Ink and Blood

“Because you are monsters,” she said, her voice dropping to a low growl. “Vile, horrible, heartless monsters.”

A moment later, she also found herself with four silver spears aimed at her heart.

Dishani’s expression remained cold, clearly unfazed by the accusation. Instead, she asked, “What manner of magic was that?”

Zarya glared, willing steel into her posture. “Perhaps if you removed these cuffs, we could attempt a civilized discussion.”

“You refuse to answer my questions?” The princess tipped her head, assessing Zarya with a sweep. When Zarya continued to glare, she added, “Throw them in the dungeons. We’ll see if that loosens their tongues.”

“Dishani,” Miraan said. “Should we not treat her with a little more dignity? If she’s who she claims⁠—”

“She’s a liar,” Dishani answered with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“She has Mother’s necklace.”

“Anyone could have made a replica.”

“Look at her.”

Dishani pressed her mouth together, her gaze sliding to Zarya.

“You just saw what she did. You know what she is,” he said.

Once again, the princess peered at Zarya, and she read so many things in the iron chill of her flat expression. The certainty she was now walking the thinnest of lines, balancing on a thread ready to snap. She’d attempted a futile rescue and, in the process, had permanently tipped the scales into something wild and unpredictable.

“Yes,” Dishani said a moment later. “I saw exactly what she did.”

Rabin didn’t bother fighting as they were hauled to their feet and dragged through the palace. Once they were in the dungeon, they could devise an escape. He’d seen the way the princess had looked at Zarya—like she wanted to cut out her heart with a dull, rusty knife—and they had to get out of here and as far away from Gi’ana as possible.

The trouble would be convincing Zarya of that.

Rabin walked with his shoulders straight and his hands behind his back down a red-tiled hallway with red-painted walls hung with portraits in thick golden frames. It took several minutes before they approached a wide stone archway flanked by armed soldiers.

Zarya walked ahead of him, a guard on either side, while Yasen marched at the back. He wished he could reach out to her. It was hard to believe it had only been a few hours since they’d gone to see Thriti and bound themselves to one another.

They were tossed into a cell, and Rabin immediately felt the rest of his already muted magic drain away. After the door slammed with a clank, three guards took up their position at the end of the hall, keeping watch. It wasn’t ideal, but at least they might converse without being overheard.

“What happened?” Zarya asked, flexing her fingers. “My magic was dulled before, but now it’s gone.”

“Enchanted bars,” Rabin said, placing a finger on the metal and watching as it shimmered faintly at his touch. “An added precaution.”

“Oh,” Zarya said, and he watched as the realization of their situation dawned on her. He wanted to strangle her for throwing herself into danger like that.

“Zee, what the fuck were you thinking?” Yasen asked, echoing Rabin’s thoughts as he peered at the tiny window at the top of the wall. He leaped up, grabbed the bars, and hoisted himself up to peer out.

“I was trying to save their lives.” There was a touch of petulance in her voice.

“Yeah,” he said, dropping back to the floor. “Great plan. This is exactly what we needed.”

She glared before her shoulders dropped and she rubbed her hands down her face. “Fine. It wasn’t my best moment.”

Yasen snorted and sank to the floor, letting his head smack against the wall.

“We have to get out of Gi’ana now,” Rabin said.

Zarya frowned. “I’m not going anywhere. We just found out how to”—she peered at the guards stationed down the hall and lowered her voice—“you know. Do the thing with the thing.” She stroked a line across her throat with her finger.

“Zarya, did you not see the look on your sister’s face?”