Page 77 of Storm of Ink and Blood

“For as long as I can remember,” she said. “My mother and grandmother were also employed by our lord.”

“Where are they now?”

“Enjoying their retirement. Did he show you the village?”

“No,” she said. “What village?”

“It’s about a five-minute walk north of here. It’s where I live with the rest of the house staff and our families.”

“What’s it like?” Zarya asked, feeling like she was uncovering yet another layer of what made Rabin tick.

“It’s beautiful and peaceful, much like this place. He built it as well.” Sarika stopped and gestured. “Here we are.”

They stood in front of a set of grey wooden doors inlaid with silver markings. Sarika opened the left one and then stepped aside.

Zarya followed her in and paused. She was now standing inside a space that looked like a ballroom with a smooth marble floor, except for the racks and racks of gleaming weapons lining every wall. Chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, and tall arched windows looked out upon the surrounding forest.

In the center of the room was a small covered table with candles, silver plates, and crystal glasses. Rabin stood next to a chair, one hand gripped on the back and his posture relaxed.

“Hi,” he said with a tip of his head. He wore loose black pants and a shirt that draped open, showing off his tattoos and the stacked muscles of his chest. “I’m honored you decided to join me.”

“Well, I already came all this way,” she said, trying to make it sound like a joke, but it came out more like a breathless confession. “We’re having dinner in your training area?”

“I thought you might appreciate it.”

“You neglected to show me this during our tour today,” she answered as she scanned the room, admiring the gleam of dozens of well-crafted swords and daggers.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

She stopped in front of the table and looked down before meeting his gaze. “Then consider me surprised.”

He smiled and pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Sarika, we’ll have dinner now.”

She nodded as Rabin poured Zarya a glass of sparkling wine. As she took a sip, Sarika returned with a line of servants in tow, pushing silver carts covered in dishes of food.

Zarya spied all of her favorites—chicken and fish swimming in creamy spiced sauces—along with fluffy naan and every sweet she could imagine, each one as precise and perfect as a jewel.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Rabin said as Sarika and the others bowed and scurried from the room.

“Starving,” she said as Rabin grabbed her plate and began piling it up.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he filled his own and then peered at her. “About being here? With me.”

She pressed her mouth together, unsure of how to answer. This place was a dream, but their relationship remained a question mark.

“Be honest,” he said.

Finally, she replied, “Conflicted.”

“About?”

“All of this… you.”

She saw the hurt flash across his face and shook her head.

“I’m sorry. I won’t deny that I have feelings for you, but I’m still…”

“I broke your trust. You have every right to be wary.”