Page 27 of Storm of Ink and Blood

“People will get hurt, Ajay. That can’t be helped,” his sister said, and his mouth pressed into a flat line, clearly disliking that answer.

“Then we need to ensure that’s as few people as possible.”

“No one got hurt tonight,” Zarya said. “Or at least no one on our side. Do you really care that we inflicted damage on the Jadugara?”

“No, of course not,” Ajay said. “But if we sink to their level, then we’re just as bad as all of them, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know about that,” Zarya grumbled. “Sometimes, the means justify the ends. We’re the ones in the right here.”

Their gazes clashed. Sometimes, they argued. Sometimes, Ajay was too damn noble for his own good. He’d grown up surrounded by vanshaj servants and, like many young people, hadn’t considered their situation in relation to his privilege. She knew he wrestled with that constant guilt, and it made him fight hard against every setback.

“Did you at least get what you went for?” Ajay asked, and Yasen strode over to pick up his stained jacket, pulling out three bottles of ink. Zarya sagged in relief.

“Well done,” she said, reaching out. “I was worried I’d broken them all.”

“About that,” Ajay said, narrowing his gaze. “What exactly happened?”

Zarya knew the question was coming. It was becoming obvious that any thread of her magic, save her sixth anchor, caused the ink to react in volatile ways, and something in the ink was connected to dark magic and the legendary sixth anchor that had been supposedly locked away.

But already Zarya suspected it was a cover-up.

What if the sixth anchor had been used to create the ink? Which would mean she wasn’t the only one with six anchors and they’d all been living a lie.

But she wasn’t ready to confess all of that yet.

“My magic slipped,” she said. “I’m still getting used to how it works.”

While she hadn’t revealed everything about her past to Farida and the Chandras, they did know she only had access to her magic recently. But her stories were wearing thin and starting to show holes; sooner or later, she’d have to come clean.

Ajay’s gaze flickered with wariness. He’d been quick to offer his trust, but she was walking a precarious line. Zarya did have all of their best interests at heart and only wanted to help. She just needed to figure out the best way to reveal these secrets. It’s not like she could just walk around claiming she was the heir to the queen, a member of the royal family, and, more importantly, the one foretold in the prophecy.

And they didn’t even know about the second half of it yet.

She touched the turquoise stone hanging around her neck. She’d replayed her mother’s message, locked inside, so many times that she knew every breath and cadence of her speech. It circled through her thoughts on a constant loop. She was sure the prophecy explained why her magic was connected to the ink and why she had to figure this out. She was destined to help the vanshaj break free of their chains, and she would die trying if she had to.

Before anyone could question her further, Zarya stood, gesturing to the ink. “I’m going to get some sleep and then practice some more with this tomorrow.”

Farida stepped in her way and looked up at Zarya with a hopeful look in her eyes. “Do you really think you can do something with it?”

“I don’t know,” Zarya said. “But I want to try.”

“How?” Rania asked, always the more suspicious of the pair, and Zarya let out a short sigh.

“Just trust me, okay? I’ll tell you everything once I know for sure.”

Rania swallowed, her throat bobbing, but whatever she saw in Zarya’s face convinced her to let it lie for now.

She squeezed Farida’s hand, hoping to offer some reassurance. “Just give me a few more days, and I’ll come to see you.”

Then Zarya headed for her room. She studied her ink-stained hands, wondering if she should have another shower, but she’d been awake since yesterday, and exhaustion weighed heavy on her shoulders.

She settled into her bed as her mind swirled with a million disparate thoughts.

She’d used her sixth anchor in a completely new way tonight, pulling out shadows to shield them from view. She held her hand up, flipping it over, studying her palm and then the back of it. She’d been so afraid of touching this power, but maybe that was foolish. This was her gift. She thought again about the prophecy. Her darkness might be the key to manipulating the ink, and how could it be wrong to use it for such an important purpose?

She flipped over to her side, her hand sliding under her pillow, where she’d stashed a dagger for safekeeping. Ever since leaving Dharati, she’d slept with one eye open, conscious of Row’s warnings about her father, the king of Andhera.

With that sinister thought floating in her mind, she closed her eyes and attempted to drown in the bliss of sleep.