Page 28 of Storm of Ink and Blood

“Tell me about her nightfire?” Abishek asked from where he sat across from Rabin. They were dining in the king’s massive domed solarium, surrounded by greenery, the windows revealing the night sky sparkling with stars overhead. Candles flickered on the table between them, the surface laden with every delicacy the kitchen could conjure.

Abishek had few indulgences—he was a man of restraint and modesty unless royal decorum required otherwise—but he did love to eat.

“It’s mesmerizing,” Rabin said. “Absolute raw power. She was having trouble controlling it after I arrived in Dharati, but I helped her through it thanks to your lessons about Aazheri magic.”

Abishek nodded as he reached for his drink and took a long sip. “And after that?”

“During the battle, she used it against Rani Amrita, assuming it wouldn’t harm her, but…”

Rabin trailed off, remembering the moment when Zarya realized her magic had affected the queen. “But it injured her.”

Abishek’s eyebrows drew together. “Nightfire hurt the queen?”

Rabin nodded and then leaned forward. “I have a theory.”

“Do you?” the king asked, arching a dark eyebrow.

“She asked me questions about the darkness, wondering if it was evil.”

“And?”

“And I explained what you taught me: that the darkness is only another form of magic. Only those who use it with nefarious intentions are evil.”

“Good,” Abishek said, nodding. “But why would she ask such things?”

Rabin shook his head. “I don’t know. But she seemed… relieved by my answers.”

“And what is it you believe?”

“Do you think it’s possible she has the sixth anchor?”

Abishek let out a loud breath and sat back, running a hand down his face.

Rabin thought of the tattoo on his back. Six petals inside a flower, each representing the continent’s magic, save one that sat empty until it could be freed from its seal. With his keen interest in magic, he’d reveled in Abishek’s lessons over the years, absorbing his vast knowledge about every form of magic.

The Ashvins had used the darkness in a way that resulted in their banishment. Ever since, Aazheri magic had been considered tainted, but that was only prejudice.

The king had six anchors—a fact he’d confided only to Rabin, his army commander, Ekaja, and his personal mystic. It was another reason why he believed Row’s claims were false.

But the seal kept others from reaching it, and Abishek’s life’s work centered on breaking down that barrier, hoping to restore full Aazheri power across the continent.

His theory was that anyone who could sense the presence of a wall pressing in on their magic also had six anchors, but a few rare Aazheri, like himself, could already access it due to some outlying factor he hadn’t yet deciphered.

At Rabin’s question, Abishek nodded. “It would make sense my child would have six anchors and that a gift so rare would belong to an Aazheri of such strength.” Rabin watched as the king’s eyes shone, the edges lined with a hint of emotion. The king wasn’t generally a sentimental man, but he held those in his confidence close and cared deeply for them.

“My daughter,” he said softly, drifting off before clearing his throat. “In my many years, I never imagined myself as a father, but knowing she has already achieved such greatness fills me with a pride I never expected…”

His gaze drifted towards the heavens, and Rabin allowed him a moment to collect himself. When the king was ready, he returned his gaze to Rabin.

“How have your experiments with the mind plane been progressing?”

“Very well,” he answered with a dip of his chin. “I was able to conjure the forest.”

“And she was there?” he asked, his eyes wide with interest.

“She was. I didn’t speak to her, but it worked.”

Abishek nodded, his pride in Rabin also evident. “When will you try again?”