Page 17 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin

Yasen’s mouth pressed into a line, and Zarya noted the worry flashing across his grey eyes. Miraan had come to mean something to him, even if he’d probably refuse to admit it.

“Dishani will kill you if you go anywhere near Ishaan. You confessed your role in funding the resistance. Like a complete fool, I might add,” Yasen said.

Miraan gave him a miserable look. “I had no choice. I couldn’t hide it anymore, and I can’t sit here like a coward while my home is on the brink of collapse. I couldn’t live with myself if the city falls or if anything happens to my family.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Yasen argued. “You’ll get yourself killed.”

Miraan exhaled a breath of frustration as he dropped into the chair opposite Yasen. He tipped forward and planted his elbows on his knees before gripping his hair, the letter crumpling under his grip.

Another knock came at the door, and they all looked up before Miraan fell back, covering his eyes with a hand.

Zarya walked over to find a vanshaj servant on the other side.

She had to discuss their situation with Abishek. What would he say when he understood the true strength of nightfire? How would he react if she asked to start freeing vanshaj while she was in Andhera?

“Breakfast, Your Highness?” the woman asked, standing behind a cart laden with silver-covered dishes and a pot of tea.

Zarya nearly tripped on her tongue. “Highness?” she croaked.

The woman blinked, a wrinkle forming between her brown eyes. “You are the king’s daughter, yes?” she asked, her question somewhat tentative. “That’s what they’re claiming in the vanshaj wing.”

Zarya exhaled a breath. “I… yes… I suppose I am. But that doesn’t make me anything.”

The woman straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “It makes you a princess of Andhera,” she said matter-of-factly.

Without awaiting further instruction, she pushed her cart into the room. Yes, technically, Zarya was a princess, she supposed. But that was only on paper. The very thought was too far-fetched and bewildering to comprehend.

The woman stopped the cart in the center of the room, placed her hands at her heart, and dipped her chin. “If you need anything, I am here to assist.”

“What’s your name?” Zarya asked.

“I’m Urvi.”

Zarya returned her bow by pressing her hands together. “It’s nice to meet you, Urvi.”

“Your Highness,” Urvi repeated firmly before she departed the room.

When Zarya turned around, Yasen wore a shit-eating grin, his eyes dancing with amusement.

He pressed his hands together and adopted a high-brow expression. “Your Highness,” he said in a snooty voice.

“Oh, shut up,” she said. “We’re just visiting. I’m not staying here, and I’m not a princess.”

Yasen snickered. “Whatever you say, Zee.”

“Tea?” she asked.

Miraan was still slumped in his chair, an elbow propped on the arm as he stared listlessly at the fire. She brought him a cup, and he turned to look at her, blinking as if shocked to discover he wasn’t alone. Then he accepted it.

“Thank you.”

Zarya finished passing out cups and food and sat on the divan.

“What do you want to do, Miraan?” she asked. “I want to return, too, but I’d like to spend at least a few days here. I have some questions for my father.”

Finally, he sat up. “I know we said we should keep our distance from Dishani, but I didn’t expect things to turn this bad. I hoped the rioting would settle, and we’d have time to let her cool off.” He rubbed a hand across his face.

“Have we heard from Vikas and the others? How are things with the Phoenix?” she asked.