Page 72 of Storm of Ink and Blood

She clung tighter with the last of her strength until they dove into the trees, and Rabin settled onto the earth. As soon as his feet touched the ground, she slid off, very nearly on the verge of fainting. She felt a woosh of air and then a pair of arms catching her before she fell.

“Zarya,” came a rough voice as he lifted her up. “We’re almost there.”

Then she felt him walking as they moved out of the rain. The warmth of his body and his arms roused her enough to open her eyes. They traveled through a forest with the tallest, lushest trees she’d ever seen. This was no ordinary place.

Tiny peri skipped through the air everywhere she looked, many of them carrying miniature balls of colorful light. They bounced through the leaves that were each rendered to look almost like lace. She recognized some of the plants—they’d been the same wondrous variety she’d admired at the Ravana estate.

While studying the shining branches dangling with crystals, she clung to Rabin as she continued to shake, her teeth chattering.

“This is…” she trailed off, completely at a loss for words. “What is this?”

“This is my refuge,” Rabin said. “Somewhere that belongs only to me.”

He walked a few more steps. “Do you think you can stand?”

She nodded. The humid air had thawed out her limbs enough that she felt a bit steadier. He gently set her on her feet and turned her around. She gaped at the house that stood before her. She’d never seen anything like it. Rendered from shimmering silver, it was layered with so many vines and flowers that it was hard to make out what was man-made and what was Rabin’s brand of organic magic.

“This is the home I built many years ago before I left Dharati,” Rabin said, taking her hand. “It was my sanctuary of escape when I needed to be alone.”

He tugged her further while she attempted to absorb the magnitude of their surroundings. This was easily the most magical place she’d ever seen.

“You made all of this?” she asked with a touch of breathless wonder.

“I did.” There was no pride in his voice—it held the same awe as hers, as though he also couldn’t believe he was capable of such miracles.

“You created the forests around your family’s home, too.” Zarya pointed to a small bud that resembled a paper lantern. “I remember thinking it was far too magical to be anything your father had created.”

Rabin let out a soft, derisive laugh. “He hated them. Thought it was a complete waste of my time.”

“I’m glad they survived.”

“He had no choice,” Rabin said, plucking a leaf off a tree before a new one immediately grew in its place. “Anything he cuts down just grows back. It drives him insane that he can’t undo it.”

She snorted a laugh and grinned.

“Come on,” Rabin said, scooping her up into his arms again. “I want to show you the rest.”

She could have argued with this possessive hold, but her legs were still numb from the ride across the continent, and she liked how warm he was. Not just warm, but solid. Substantial, like a mountain protecting her with the inevitability of its shadow.

They approached the front entrance, and she could see it was no ordinary door but rather a series of overlapping leaves and vines. They melted away when they passed under the archway before entering a foyer that was part home and part forest.

Marble floors gave way to green grass, and a wide staircase curved off to their right. Instead of a wall at the far end, a large opening framed the entrance to what looked like a massive garden.

“My lord,” came a soft voice, and Zarya turned her head to find a young woman wearing a green sari who pressed her hands in front of her heart. “Welcome home.”

Rabin nodded. “Sarika. I’ll be staying for a few days. This is Zarya.”

He gestured to her with his chin, and then she felt a bit silly cradled in his arms. As if reading her mind, he tightened his hold. “Please send up some dry clothes and food for us,” he said. “We are not to be disturbed for anything else.”

Then he spun around and swooped Zarya up the stairs.

TWENTY-SIX

She looped her arms around his neck as Rabin took her down a long hallway towards a set of doors made of the same organic material. They seemed to sense his presence, the leaves and vines creaking open as they approached.

They entered a large bedroom to find a roaring fire in a hearth. The carpet was of the softest moonstone grey, as was the wood of the bedframe, the silk on the walls, and all the sheets. Rabin carried her to the divan in front of the fire and set her down.

“You can have a warm shower,” he said. “When you’re done, you can eat, and then we’ll talk.”