Page 25 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin

“I agree,” Yasen said. “Let’s get a better read on the situation.” When Miraan opened his mouth to protest, he lifted a hand. “Zarya said it would just be a few days. Let’s wait for them to deal with this bond thing, and then we all return? I’d feel better if we stuck together.”

Yasen looked around the room, seeking approval from Zarya and Rabin, who both nodded.

“Yas is right,” Zarya said. “We shouldn’t split up. I also want to see if the king might be persuaded to our side.” She chewed on her lip. “He’s reluctant, but I think he’s open to being convinced.”

Miraan let out a surprised huff. “Well, that would certainly be something. I think Dishani would be far more willing to listen to the rebellion’s demands if the king of Andhera were already a champion for the cause. She’s always admired him.”

“Then give me a few days to work on him,” Zarya said.

Miraan pressed his mouth together, his knee bouncing in agitation.

“A few days won’t make any difference in the bigger picture,” Yasen said.

Miraan’s jaw flexed again, and Yasen was sure he would refuse before his shoulders dropped. “Fine.”

“So, what should we do while we wait?” Yasen asked, eyeing the barren landscape through the window. This climate wasn’t for him. He liked the sun and warmth. Fresh grass and flourishing flowers. He had no idea how Rabin could stand being here all these years with so few plants and trees around him.

“There are some things I’d like to understand about my magic,” Zarya said. “I have some reading to do.”

“Of course you do,” he deadpanned, which earned him a glare.

“Come and spar with me and Ekaja,” Rabin said with a sly grin. “She’ll wipe the floor with the likes of you.”

Yasen barked out a laugh and lifted his glass in a toast. “Without a doubt.”

EIGHT

While they waited for Kishore to return, Miraan brooded in his room, and Rabin introduced Yasen to the Cradle.

Ekaja had created the treacherous sparring ring decades ago atop a mountain near the castle and nestled in the Zamina Valley. She’d spent months slicing off the top with her air and earth anchors, leaving behind a massive plateau.

She’d then spent the better part of a decade carving a spiraling line of stairs up the side before adding storage racks, weapons, and provisions. There was even a small hut with a wood-burning stove and a few palettes scattered on the floor where one could sleep. Most people needed a moment to rest after spending a few hours in the Cradle.

Rabin and Ekaja had been drinking too much wine one night when she’d turned uncharacteristically maudlin. She confessed she’d built the Cradle to silence the tortured voices plaguing her consciousness. During a brutal campaign against a rebelling mountain clan, her army was ambushed by a group of renegade clansmen. She’d been caught off guard. She’d missed the telltale signs and was terrified of disappointing Abishek after making such a rookie mistake.

So, as punishment, she ordered her soldiers to finish off the entire clan. No one was left alive. After returning home, she was riddled with guilt, unable to sleep or function without seeing their faces or hearing their screams.

The arduous task had temporarily taken her mind off the violence and brutality, giving her somewhere to channel her shame. Enough years passed that time dulled her emotions enough that she could exist again. But every once in a while, she would disappear for days at a time, sleeping and living in the Cradle, and he knew those ghosts had returned to haunt her once again.

“Where the fuck are we going?” Yasen asked as he trudged up the stairs behind Rabin.

“You’ll see,” he replied, ignoring Yasen’s grumbling as they made the ascent. The narrow staircase was a test of one’s balance and agility in itself.

When they reached the top, a blast of icy wind hit them with the force of a gut punch. This was one of the primary reasons Ekaja had selected this spot. The added distractions of the cold and wind were enough to test even the most battled-hardened warrior.

Yasen came up beside him, taking in the scope of the Cradle. Snowy mountain peaks surrounded them, casting cold shadows under the pale sky.

Ekaja stood in the middle of the plateau, performing a series of drills as she withstood the harsh elements.

She’d never told another living soul her reasons for creating this place—the king would have called her weak and questioned her role as his commander—but Rabin had been honored that she trusted him enough to unburden herself.

“Welcome to the Cradle,” Rabin said with a sweep of his arm.

“The Cradle?” Yasen asked.

“You’ve heard the term ‘from cradle to death?’ It’s a little play on words.”

“Well, this is insane,” he remarked wryly.