Page 152 of Storm of Ink and Blood

“I love her, too!” he called.

That halted Rabin in his tracks.

He turned to face Yasen, who stood with his hands spread. “Let me help you.”

Rabin sucked in a sharp breath and then nodded. He took two steps and clapped a hand on Yasen’s shoulder. “And I haven’t thanked you for taking care of her.”

Yasen offered him a wry smile. “Well, someone had to after you royally fucked up.”

Rabin huffed out a near laugh. “I promise I’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to her.”

Then he turned around and continued walking, stopping in the middle of a sparsely populated square, deciding this would have to do.

Spinning around, he turned to face Yasen. “Starting right now.”

FIFTY-FOUR

Zarya writhed in agony on the hard floor. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been lying here hungry, cold, tired, and suffering. It felt like a hundred years, but it might have been only minutes. She had no sense of time or place. She thought she remembered the sun setting and rising, but it was impossible to tell.

Dishani remained at her side most of the time, or maybe it just seemed that way because Zarya kept slipping into unconsciousness. Her sister’s questions cycled between demanding information about the Rising Phoenix and Zarya herself.

Who are the members? Where do they meet? Who are you really? Why are you here?

But Zarya held out. She wouldn’t give Dishani a single scrap of leverage against the resistance, and anything Zarya claimed about herself was met with dismissal and doubt.

During a brief respite, Zarya lay panting on the floor, sucking in air, trying to catch her breath as every muscle and bone in her body ached like she’d been stretched and scored from the inside out. She tried to reach for Rabin yet again, but was met with only a wall of nothing.

A circle of guards lined the room, some facing the windows and some facing her with stony expressions. Sunlight filtered through the tall glass. She had just enough presence of mind to realize the rain had stopped.

She licked her dry, cracked lips, tasting blood and wishing for a drop of water. How far would Dishani go? Would she kill Zarya? Without her in the picture, Dishani’s crown would remain uncontested, and she was still alive only because Dishani wanted information about the Rising Phoenix.

Which was another reason Zarya couldn’t give in to her demands. Rabin would be looking for her. She just had to hold out long enough.

She scanned the room from her place on the floor, noting her sister had left. But she would return soon. Zarya groaned, hoping a guard would take pity on her and offer some water, but they stared straight ahead, pretending she wasn’t there.

What had happened to the others? Where was Yasen? What had happened to the vanshaj? She heard no sounds of fighting inside the palace, suggesting their planned coup had failed. Her eyes fluttered closed as a wave of exhaustion nearly pulled her under. She’d cry if she had the strength.

She squeezed her eyes tighter at the sound of the door opening, listening for Dishani’s slow, hard steps. How long had she been gone? Was it time for another round?

She sensed someone dropping in front of her and did her best not to whimper. What fresh hell did the princess have planned now?

“Zarya,” came a soft whisper, and her eyes peeled open to find Miraan kneeling in her blurred vision. In his hand, he held a canteen of water. After unscrewing the lid, he held it to her mouth. She was too weak to sit up, and he tipped it gently, patiently waiting for her to take small sips as a cold trickle dribbled down her chin.

“We don’t have long before someone tells my sister I’m here,” Miraan said. “I’m only getting away with this because of who I am. But help is coming, Zarya. They’re coming.” He said the last words so softly she wasn’t even sure she’d heard them. She looked up to meet his gaze, noticing he also had that line between his eyebrows that formed when he was worried. Just like Zarya. Just like that image she’d seen of Asha in Row’s bedroom all those months ago.

She wanted to say something to him about family and how she’d first come to Gi’ana with so much hope. She wanted to tell him how much she’d always wanted a brother or a sister.

“I’m sorry,” he said, running a thumb over the arch of her eyebrow as if he understood what she was thinking. “I’m sorry that we weren’t what you wished for.”

She felt her eyes fill with tears as she slowly shook her head.

The door opened again, and Zarya whimpered.

“What are you doing?” Dishani asked, her steps ringing against the marble. “You’re helping her?”

Miraan stood and faced his sister, the canteen clutched in one hand and the other gesturing to Zarya. “What am I doing? How can you treat her this way?”

Dishani’s eyes narrowed. “She deserves this.”