Page 156 of Storm of Ink and Blood

When she felt him dip, losing altitude, she had no idea how much time had passed. They landed on the ground with a gentle thump. Her limbs hung loose and pliant like someone had pulled out her bones as she was guided off Rabin’s back by careful hands.

Then she felt herself transferred into his arms as she inhaled his fresh, earthy scent.

“Rab—” she tried to say as he hugged her closer.

“Shh,” he said softly. “You’re safe now.”

Then he started walking as a dark haze settled over her vision, her mind sluggish like her head had been stuffed with cotton.

She heard voices and doors opening and closing before she was laid on a soft bed.

Briefly, her unfocused gaze took in a small dark room she didn’t recognize before she once again drifted off.

When she awoke, it was to the welcoming, warm smell of food and a roaring fire. She blinked, noting the small window above her and the frost glazing the panes. The walls were constructed of wide planks of honeyed wood, and she was covered with a dark blue blanket woven of the softest wool.

Rabin sat next to the bed in a plush armchair, his hands clasped and his head angled against his shoulder in sleep. His hair was wild, his clothes covered in blood, and a crusted scar marred his cheek. She stared at him, hardly daring to believe he was here. Some part of her thought she’d never see him again.

But he’d come. No one would ever keep them apart.

A glass of water sat on the bedside, and she reached for it, groaning when her joints and muscles seized. Rabin’s eyes flew open, his head snapping up.

Zarya paused, her hand in midair, as she noted the dark ferocity in his expression. Then he blinked, and it cleared. Immediately, he was up.

“Zarya,” he breathed as he fell to one knee. She wrapped her arms around him and dropped her face into the curve of his neck. “I was so fucking scared.” His big hand cupped the back of her head as they held one another, breathing in each other’s scent.

She thought she’d used up every tear she’d ever had, but now they resurfaced, burning in her throat and eyes.

These were the soothing tears of relief, not ones of terror and failure. He squeezed her tighter, enough that she felt it in the deep ache of her bones, but she didn’t care.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she whispered.

“I’ll kill her,” he said in a voice that shivered through the room. “I’ll make her suffer and then I will kill her.”

“You hurt her.”

He exhaled a sharp breath. “It isn’t nearly enough.”

She pulled up and looked at him.

It would take some time for Zarya to sort through her feelings for her sister. Dishani had crossed every line, and Zarya knew it was foolish and naive to still hope something good was buried somewhere inside her. The princess had been scared, backed into a corner. She’d been faced with her greatest fears when Zarya had dropped into her life.

Maybe it had been her fault. Maybe so much of this could have been avoided if she’d just gone to them when she’d first arrived in Ishaan and explained who she was.

“Tell me everything that happened?” Zarya asked, just as a knock came at the door.

It swung open and she sobbed at the sight of Yasen and his soft smile.

“Zee,” he whispered before he dropped next to Rabin on the floor. She reached for his hand and squeezed it.

“You both came for me,” she said in a raw voice.

“I’d follow you anywhere,” Yasen replied, and she nodded.

“I know. I would follow you, too, Yas.”

He returned the squeeze of her hand, pressing his forehead to the back as he inhaled a deep breath.

They explained everything briefly while she sipped on her water before lying back on her pillow. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever been more tired in her life, and sitting up was a struggle.