Page 21 of Storm of Ink and Blood

Next time, she’d see the other half of her home.

Zarya opened her eyes, blinking several times as her breath stuck in her chest.

The forest.

She’d returned. Finally. Everything had been as she remembered. The clearing and the trees, the vibrant violet sky. The stars that seemed to breathe with life. The tree he’d pressed her against that night he’d almost kissed her and then walked away, and the rock where he’d “apologized” for his behavior on his knees. Her cheeks warmed at the memory despite the fact she’d played it in her head at least a thousand times.

But the forest had been empty. She’d waited, staring in the direction where he usually appeared, her heart pounding as she tried to decide what she really wanted. She’d spent months missing him, but the idea of actually confronting him had suddenly felt like too much.

What would she say? What would he say? She’d imagined so many conversations they might have. Him telling her he’d manipulated her. Tricked her into feeling something for him. Him swearing he hadn’t meant to lie to her.

But she shouldn’t have worried herself over these questions because he hadn’t been there at all. Was this it, then? No more connection? Had he ever been her paramadhar?

As she’d stood in that clearing, she’d considered calling for him, but something stopped her. She wasn’t ready to see him. Not yet.

Despite the hole he’d carved out of her heart and the many nights she’d spent thinking of him, she wasn’t.

When the sun began peeking over the rooftops of Ishaan, she sat up, rubbing her chest, and wondered if that empty space would ever close again.

EIGHT

“Can I buy you a drink?” asked a handsome Aazheri later that evening. He leaned against the bar where Zarya was sitting, debating on what to order. Somewhere in the crowd was Yasen, while Apsara and Suvanna sat at a nearby table, chatting and preparing to meet Farida.

This establishment was owned by a member of the Rising Phoenix and was ideal for clandestine conversations due to the constant noise at all hours of the day. The proprietor also had a number of secret back rooms useful for even more private conversations.

Zarya had spent the day holed up in her room, practicing her magic with the last of the ink tipped from the dregs of the bottle, though it hadn’t been enough to do much. And now every drop was gone.

She had to get her hands on more, and soon.

Zarya eyed the man up and down. He appeared close to her age, though she knew that didn’t mean much when it came to Aazheri. He had soft brown eyes and black hair that curled to the tops of his shoulders.

“Who’s asking?” she said with a coy tip of her head.

She’d been enjoying her months in Gi’ana, exploring all the things she’d been missing during her sheltered upbringing, engaging in some harmless flirting, and having plenty of fun. Discovering she had this kind of power was a freedom of its own kind, and it allowed her to explore a new side of herself—one that could be anyone and anything.

“I’m Rahul,” he said, taking the question as an invite to move closer. He hovered over the next seat as if asking for permission, and he was cute enough to pique her interest.

But after last night, the dream forest was weighing on her mind, throwing her off-kilter. She owed nothing to Rabin. Not her loyalty and certainly not her body. He’d lied to her. Betrayed her.

So she forced a welcoming smile and said, “I haven’t decided what I want yet.”

Finally, he sank down as he laughed softly and then ordered himself a drink from the bartender.

“And whatever she’d like,” he added.

“Nothing for me right now,” Zarya answered as she scanned the bar, finding Yasen with a male Aazheri deep in conversation. He, too, had been enjoying himself since their departure from Dharati and sometimes took off on his own to indulge in a game of cards at one of Ishaan’s many gambling lairs where he might find his own handsome stranger. She knew he’d made a few friends, too, though she hadn’t met any of them yet.

Once in a while, he’d come home with a smattering of cuts and bruises, but he’d be smiling and assure her everything was fine. He’d changed so much without the burden of Vikram’s protection and Gopal Ravana’s threats hanging over his head, and she loved watching him flourish.

Apsara and Suvanna were no longer talking, both staring pointedly away from each other as though they’d been arguing. It wasn’t her business, and she knew she shouldn’t pry, but she wanted to see her friends happy. Apsara had grown on her during those weeks in Dharati, and she had a good heart. She wasn’t as sure about Suvanna, but there was a fierce righteousness about her that was impossible to deny.

“Are you from Ishaan?” Rahul asked, bringing her attention back.

“Not originally,” she answered.

He waited for her to elaborate, and when she didn’t, he continued. “What do you do?”

People loved that question around here. Everyone’s station and rank were determined by how they earned a living. The question always rubbed her the wrong way. It was as though people were constantly trying to differentiate themselves from the vanshaj by declaring they had a good job with good pay that they did by choice. It was an underlying thread that governed nearly every interaction in Ishaan.