Page 29 of Storm of Ink and Blood

“Soon. I’d like to show her this place.” He cast out an arm to encompass their surroundings.

“That is a far more difficult bit of magic,” Abishek said, and Rabin nodded.

“I think I can do it.”

“I have no doubt, my son.” He smiled at Rabin, and he felt his heart twist. A father of sorts. After so many years of craving someone who might be proud of him, this king had filled that raw, gaping void.

“Thank you for your faith in me,” Rabin said, and Abishek dipped his chin.

“You make it easy.” He leaned forward. “But don’t wait too long. I am very eager to meet her.”

“I understand,” Rabin said. “I will not let you down.”

ELEVEN

Once Zarya had scrubbed her skin until it was red and raw, until every last trace of the magic ink was purged, she headed through the city towards the forest. Her route through Ishaan took her past the royal palace.

Anytime she came this way, she couldn’t help the way her feet would draw her closer.

The massive structure stood in vivid contrast to the white marble of Ishaan’s architecture, made of sky-blue stone forged from a secret, enchanted cave inside the Pathara Vala Mountains. It would dull the magic of anyone within its walls, thus ensuring the royal family’s protection during an invasion. Each immediate family member wore a special object that nullified the effects and, every so often, bestowed a charm on those they deemed loyal and worthy of the honor.

A wide central tower dominated the center of the palace, stretching into the clouds with tall windows ringing the perimeter, offering an unobstructed view of Gi’ana in every direction. Or at least, that’s what Zarya had been told.

The rest of the palace boasted hundreds of arched windows, all framed in ornate silver, wrought into twists and curls. White marble doors inlaid with colorful stones admitted hundreds of people in and out of the courtyard at all hours of the day.

Zarya stopped at the gates and peered into the massive square, where a huge astronomical clock dominated one wall. It stood several stories high, and the polished gold, silver, and bronze gears and mechanisms reflected brightly in the sun.

In the distance hung a balcony at the front of the palace where the Madans often gathered to greet their subjects. It stood empty today, but Zarya noted the line snaking out of the main door. Three mornings a week, at least one member of the royal family would meet with the citizens in the throne room to hear their grievances. Vanshaj were not permitted, of course.

When Zarya first arrived, she’d tried joining the line, but the clerics managing the crowds demanded to know her business. When she couldn’t answer their questions, she was turned away. As she learned more about the city and the Madans, she wasn’t sure if her primary reason for coming to Gi’ana still made sense. These people of her heritage ran a queendom built on blood. Did she really want to know them better?

But a crackle charged the air today, signaling a shifting tide. Zarya was sure it was all a result of the explosion, the theft from the Jadugara, and the threat of new laws. The royals had been spooked and scared bullies tended to react in unpredictable ways.

They were running out of time, and Zarya had to do something fast.

She turned away and continued through the city, passing the walls into the forest beyond.

She found the same clearing where she’d brought Yasen a few nights ago and sat on the rock in the center, studying her surroundings. While this forest bore little resemblance to the dream forest, she couldn’t help but be reminded of it. Despite her best efforts, Rabin continued to occupy her thoughts.

She sighed and rolled her neck, trying to quell a riot of emotions. She had more important things to do right now. People were relying on her, and she couldn’t let them down.

Opening up her bag, she pulled out a bottle of ink and a copper bowl, pouring out a few drops. She had to figure this out. Who knew where they’d find more ink? While they’d scored a victory in destroying most of what remained, the catch was that she only had this small amount left to work with. She would figure it out. She was meant for this. As much as she missed Row and Dharati and Amrita, she was more sure than ever that coming to Gi’ana had been the right choice. The fact she’d met Farida and the Chandras within the first few days of her arrival only confirmed it.

She was being led down the right path, but it was up to her to fit the pieces together and create the desired outcome.

She placed the bowl next to her and then turned to face it, one leg folded under her.

There was no point in bothering with her other five strains of magic. She’d already proven there was only one option here.

Closing her eyes, she felt for the spinning star in her heart, unfolding the sixth anchor from its place where it hid behind her fire anchor.

Maybe there wasn’t any need to lock it away. Maybe this, too, was part of the plan. She remembered Rabin’s confident words about magic being neither good nor evil; only the people controlling it could decide the spectrum of its morality. With that thought in mind, she let it snap free, locking it into place with her five other anchors. She considered the arrangement, appreciating the symmetry and the completeness of this picture.

This was the full extent of who she was. Right?

She pulled on the darkness and allowed it to filter out of her fingers, touching it to the surface. The ink responded instantly, rippling in the sway of her magic. She drew it up and pulled it into the air, directing it into a series of intricate, twisting patterns.

Then she let it settle back into the bowl and stared at it, contemplating her next step.