Page 6 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin

Rabin gestured for Zarya to enter, and they all filed into the dim interior of a small landing.

“This way,” Rabin said, directing them towards a narrow spiral staircase. “I’m sure they’ve seen us coming and are already expecting us.”

He inhaled a deep breath and then paused briefly before plunging down the stairs. Zarya hesitated for another moment before following, her stomach twisting with nerves as she spiraled lower.

Warm air drifted up, almost like an embrace. The black stones were hard under her feet, and she dragged a hand along the wall to steady herself, feeling the deep chill living in every crack and crevice.

She heard the clatter of Yasen and Miraan behind her, grateful to have them both along. She watched Rabin’s dark head circle down, hoping he was right about all of this.

Hoping she hadn’t made a huge mistake.

When they reached the bottom, they were greeted by a vanshaj man with silver hair who wore a tailored black sherwani. He stood with his hands behind his back and his nose up. Surrounding him were more guards.

Zarya swallowed at the sight of the stars collaring his throat, suddenly thrown off. She’d spent so many months around people who supported vanshaj freedom, but this was a reminder that their actions had only been a tiny fracture within a much larger battle they’d have to reconcile soon enough. She couldn’t abandon what they’d started. And she’d never give up on this fight.

“Omar,” Rabin said, his tone polite but devoid of emotion.

“My lord, you’ve brought guests,” Omar replied, assessing Zarya and her party with a critical eye.

“I apologize for not alerting you,” Rabin replied.

Omar sniffed. “What’s done is done, though I hope we won’t be making this a habit. I shall see to their rooms.”

“Will you please place them in my wing? We’ve all been through a lot, and I’d prefer everyone remain close.”

Omar tipped his chin in agreement.

“Thank you. Where is the king?” Rabin asked.

“In his throne room, my lord,” he answered, eyeing Zarya, Yasen, and Miraan again. “He is most eager to meet your companions.”

“This way,” Rabin told them, and he turned left, leading them through the straight and orderly corridors.

Black stone stretched underfoot, and Zarya studied the dark walls covered with an array of colorful tapestries, some embroidered with geometric patterns, some with organic styles like flowers and vines, and others depicting a great city nestled within the mountains, the streets crowded with people, buildings, and life. Her eyes caught on a giant silver temple with a star floating above it, but they passed before she could examine it more closely.

The high ceilings were capped with curved glass, the edges covered in snow, offering a view of the watery blue sky. As they walked, Zarya caught a closer glimpse of Andhera’s bustling city and the market below.

Rabin gave her a sidelong look. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but to keep up this charade, they’d have to maintain a physical distance in both the king’s presence and any of his people. She curled her fingers against her palms, her nails digging into flesh.

She understood Rabin’s reservations, but it also stung in a way that she was trying to move past. This wasn’t about her. This was far more complicated than her feelings.

Finally, after several minutes of walking, they turned a corner into a hallway so wide it could easily accommodate half a dozen wagons side by side. A massive black arch stood at the end, framing the entrance of a large room beyond.

“Ready?” Rabin asked, and Zarya swallowed the itchy lump in her throat.

Ready as she’d ever be.

They continued their stride, passing under the arch into a sprawling chamber lined with tall windows stretching several stories high. Black velvet curtains puddled on the silver-tiled floor, and the vaulted ceiling was adorned with thick beams of silver and painted with hundreds of colors, depicting what must have been a great battle.

She couldn’t help staring up, wondering who had spent so many hours creating such a masterpiece. It was stunning, but she didn’t really care about ancient battles, and her interest was feigned as she avoided the inevitable.

With a deep breath, she forced her gaze forward. The air and sound in the room suddenly evaporated. She took a step, and the click of her boots against the tiles was so loud she could feel it to the backs of her teeth.

At the far end of the room sat a massive black throne carved from what looked like marble veined with silver and gold. Given the grandness of the room, it was simple but regal, suggesting great power and influence.

Zarya stopped walking.

Suddenly, she couldn’t will herself to take another step.