Page 47 of Storm of Ink and Blood

“You may have done so without realizing. I’m not sure which of us it was. From what I’ve read, it was likely me. The paramadhar seeks out their masatara. They cannot help but be drawn to them.”

“Masatara?”

“I’m your paramadhar and you are my masatara.”

Zarya studied him, turning that over in her head. Masatara. Another shiver climbed over her scalp. They were connected no matter what he’d done. No matter how hard she fought.

“Why did you make this?” she asked, waving her hand in a circle.

“Because I wanted you to see where I was.”

Andhera. He was in Andhera. “So, you ran straight back to my father.”

“This is where I feel safe, Zarya.”

Her indignation wavered at the thread of rawness in his voice. He’d told her all the horrible things his own father had done. She knew why he couldn’t stay in Dharati. Where else was he supposed to go?

“Again, I ask, why did you bring me here?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

But was that true? Was she the one lying now?

“Zarya, please⁠—”

“No!” She stood straighter, taking a step towards him. “I didn’t consent to being dragged here.”

As she passed a desk covered with books and papers, her attention snagged on a golden dagger, the hilt inlaid with violet jewels. She grabbed it and pointed it at him. “I want to go home.”

“Where is home?” he asked. “Where are you?”

She shook her head. “Oh no. We’re not doing this again. Why? So you can show up unannounced and tear my life apart one more time? I’m happy. I have a purpose. I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

But was any of that true anymore? The mistake she’d made with Farida was unforgivable. What if she never woke up? What if this wasn’t really her purpose, and she was involving herself in things that weren’t hers to meddle with, just as Rania had claimed?

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he said. “I want you to be happy, but I want you to be happy with me at your side.”

Zarya took a step closer, holding the dagger in front of her. “You betrayed me.”

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

“But you did!” she shouted.

“I meant you no harm. Give me another chance. Let me prove it to you.”

His voice was so full of passion that she felt the dagger drop an inch.

She stared at him, tracing the hard lines of his face. The sharp angle of his jaw and the arch of his thick eyebrows. Her gaze drifted lower, over his wide shoulders and broad chest. The narrow taper of his waist and his strong thighs encased in supple leather. She looked at his hands hanging loosely at his sides, but she saw the way his fingers twitched as if he was an inch away from destroying everything around him with the pent-up energy boiling under his skin.

It would be so easy to give into everything she craved.

But he’d been very convincing last time, too.

She hoisted the dagger higher, pointing it at him.

“I want to leave,” she said.