Page 33 of Storm of Ink and Blood

Zarya didn’t look up from where she was concentrating on her arm.

“I was working,” she said.

He made a sound of surprise. “What did you do?”

She looked at him and then her arm. “What I needed.”

She pulled up another tattooed dot, and Yasen let out a low whistle. “You weren’t kidding about making progress.”

She blew out a breath. “I don’t know what else I can do at this point. I’ve tried it on several materials, animal skin and flesh.” She held up her arm. “And now my own skin.”

She fell silent, and Yasen sank on the bed beside her. “But you don’t know how it will affect a real live human who’s been wearing the tattoo for years?”

“Exactly,” she said.

“How did you know the tattoo wouldn’t steal your magic?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I was hoping that just a few dots wouldn’t hurt.”

Yasen shook his head, exasperation crossing his face. “That was incredibly stupid.”

“Probably,” Zarya said, pushing the blanket off her legs and scooting off the bed. “I’m going to tell the Chandras.”

“You are?”

“I want to try this on Farida, but she has a right to know what I’m attempting. It wouldn’t be right to use the darkness on her without making her aware of what I am.”

“I’m worried about how they’ll react,” Yasen said as Zarya dug into her closet for a light blue cotton salwar kameez. She walked into the bathroom to change.

“I am, too,” she shouted from the other room. “But what choice do I have anymore? They already know something is weird about my magic.”

“Yeah,” Yasen said. “I hope… I hope they’re who we think they are.”

Dressed now, Zarya returned to the bedroom. “What do you mean by that?”

“I just think we put a lot of trust into people we’d never met until a few months ago. Once they know your secrets, there will be no putting them back.”

Zarya snapped a silver bangle onto her wrist and tipped her head. “Aw, are you worried about me?”

Yasen glared. “Of course I am. I came along to keep an eye on you, remember?”

She smiled and patted his cheek. “And I’m so glad you did.”

He snorted and then stood. “Okay, let’s go then. I’m coming with you.”

Zarya nodded and linked arms with Yasen.

They entered the street, pressing into the throng of bustling people. More posters plastered every surface, demanding information about the Rising Phoenix and its members. Updated versions included hazy illustrations of two people that Zarya presumed were meant to be her and Yasen. They stopped to scrutinize the drawings.

“Do they look like us?” she asked softly, and Yasen shook his head.

“Not really. But I don’t know how they could have gotten a good enough look at us to compose a proper sketch. My hunch is they’re just pretending they know more than they do to make it seem like they’re in control.”

“Hmm,” Zarya said, hoping that was true. Yasen was right, and between the darkness, their hoods, and her shadows, it would have been impossible to see their faces, but they were dealing with powerful Aazheri, and she had no idea what they were truly capable of.

As if thinking about the Jadugara summoned their presence, a hushed murmur ran through the crowd a moment later. The sea of people was parting, clearing the busy boulevard to press along the sides. Zarya and Yasen had a clear view down the street towards a group of men wearing long blood-red robes with belts made of colorful fabric and embroidered with tiny mirrors and beads.

Everyone fell silent as the Jadugara approached. They eyed the crowd, most of them with thick dark beards, though a few had only a light layer of stubble covering their cheeks. What they all had in common was a straight set to their postures and an imperious tilt to their chins—like men born to privilege who had never had one of their ideas dismissed.