Page 146 of Storm of Ink and Blood

Thousands, Rabin had said. Tens of thousands. They weren’t even close to that number but were also out of time.

“Is it enough?” Zarya asked.

“It might be. It’s honestly more than I expected,” Rabin said, blowing out a long breath. “We’ve done all we could. Trained them to the best of our ability. Now it’s up to us and to each of them.”

“Then may the gods favor us tomorrow,” Ajay added, and they all shared a wary look before falling into their beds to dream of victory and the distinct possibility of their failure.

FIFTY

At the crack of dawn, Zarya awoke, sensing the energy in the air. Everyone understood what was at stake today, and either they would make a statement or many would die trying. As she lay in bed next to Rabin, she clutched her necklace, holding on to the stone, seeking strength from the message inside. This was her purpose. She was supposed to be doing this. That meant the gods had to be on their side. Right?

She looked over to find Rabin awake.

“Couldn’t sleep, either?” he asked.

“Not really.”

He reached out and wrapped a large hand around her forearm.

“Whatever happens today, don’t leave my side. I can’t protect you otherwise.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he squeezed harder. “I know you can take care of yourself, but this is my job.” He paused. “And you are now my wife, and I will fight for you with every dying breath.”

“Wife,” she said with a small smile. “I’m not used to that yet.”

He arched a brow. “And what do you think?”

She shrugged. “I kind of like the sound of it. Husband.”

She actually loved the sound of it, but his ego was already big enough.

“Good,” he growled. “Because you’d better get used to it.”

He rolled over and kissed her, his hard body pressing her into the mattress. He framed her face with his hands and devoured her mouth, their tongues meeting and their hips writhing. He pulled up, his dark eyes gleaming as he ran the tip of his tongue over a sharp canine, causing a liquid pit of desire to flutter in her stomach.

She sighed, knowing they would have to cut this short.

“What do you think will happen today?” she asked, trying to focus on their task. “Do you think the royal family will listen?”

He shook his head. “I think they will fight back with everything they have. No one wants to disrupt a situation that benefits them entirely. But we have numbers on our side. It’s not as much as I hoped for, but it’s still a significant amount. I think we can at least make a statement.”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” she whispered. “I won’t be able to live with it.”

“That isn’t possible,” he said. “War never comes without cost.”

She nodded. She knew that. She couldn’t help wishing there was another way, but centuries of oppression had proven that violence could only be met with force.

“Then let’s go,” she said. “And hope we aren’t making a colossal mistake.”

An hour later, Zarya stood amongst the crowd outside the palace, hemmed in by the walls and simmering atmosphere. A similar platform had once again been erected for the hanging, only it was much higher and surrounded by several rows of guards on every side.

Zarya peered through the masses, keeping her eyes down and her hood up, recognizing many vanshaj she’d freed from their collars. The fake markings around their necks weren’t perfect—the artists had been forced to pick up their pace—but hopefully, they’d fool anyone who wasn’t looking too closely. She caught a few smiles and nods directed her way.

With his years of battle experience, Rabin was leading today’s charge, organizing different factions and doling out orders to be filtered throughout the vanshaj district and the rest of Ishaan at strategically determined points.

With this many people—and none of them trained soldiers—there were bound to be mistakes, but Rabin was mostly confident they could make up for some less-than-perfect technique with sheer brute force.

She hoped he was right.