Page 77 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin

Rabin stared at her for several long seconds. “I do. He’s grown fond of you and wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

She smiled. “Then let’s take care of this, and we’ll be on our way.”

After dinner, they prepared for bed. She stripped out of her dress and stood before the mirror, turning to examine her inked dragon, its sheen of iridescence barely visible in the falling light.

Rabin came up behind her, also bare down to his underwear. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him before brushing aside her hair to expose her shoulder.

He leaned down to kiss the dragon on her skin.

“Rabin,” she said. “Do you feel it? The taint? Be honest with me.”

He was silent for several moments, his expression suggesting he’d gone into himself. Then he shook his head. “Sometimes, I think I feel it. Like an echo that wasn’t there before. But then I wonder if I’m imagining it.”

“It’s changed, though,” she said. “I don’t feel anything in the marking itself, but our connection is different.”

He sighed. “It is. I suppose that must be what we’re feeling.”

“I don’t like it. I want to head back to Ishaan, but I also want this fixed.”

“We’ll fix it,” he said as he turned her to face him. His hand swept over her hip and settled on her lower back. “This is nothing we can’t handle. We’ll allow Kishore to work his magic, and everything will be fine.”

“I’m worried about you.”

He smirked. “I’ve been through a lot worse, Spitfire. It’ll take a lot more than that to kill me.”

She sighed as he leaned in to suck on the curve of her neck, then he took her hand and tugged her towards the bed. “Now we don’t have to hide this anymore, and I’m about to have my way with you in my bed.”

She giggled as he tossed her down and then landed on top of her before they lost themselves in each other.

That night, Zarya dreamed of her mother again.

Only it was different. She was wandering the corridors of a dark castle that felt familiar, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. She traversed a narrow hall of dark stones lined with faded tapestries, their threads nearly leached of color.

A sound echoed in the distance, but she couldn’t determine its source. It was both soft and sharp, like a hammer striking nails against the backdrop of leaves whispering in the wind.

She noticed the cold stones beneath her feet and the air chilling her skin, sending a shiver skating down her back. In the dream, she was propelled forward. Even when she stopped walking, the scene continued to move, finding her at the bottom of a winding staircase spiraling up into the darkness.

She saw her hand grip the railing, the metal cold as ice, and then she ascended smoothly, almost like she was floating. As she wound higher, the air grew colder, freezing in her lungs, nipping the tips of her ears and nose with the sharp, burning sensation of frostbite.

She reached the door she’d come to recognize, and without pausing, she pushed it open to reveal the same circular room and her mother huddled in the corner, shivering violently. Zarya choked on a sob as she tried to reach for Asha, but the closer she moved, the further the scene retreated.

Zarya stopped and stared at her mother’s huddling form. At the bruises and lacerations marring her skin. She couldn’t look away from her hair hanging knotted and lined with strands of white, nor her threadbare clothing or dirty bare feet with their jagged, torn nails.

“Mother,” Zarya tried to call, but nothing came out. She felt herself say it, but she couldn’t hear it. She wanted to scream in frustration, stomp on the floor, and pound on the walls until this entire room collapsed.

A movement caught her eye, and she turned towards the corner as a new sense of premonition climbed up the back of her scalp.

There were windows in this tower.

Though her subconscious had always known this, she’d never paid attention until now. She approached the nearest one with her heart wedged in her throat until she peered over the edge, taking in the sight before her.

Mountains and snow. Pine trees and endless grey rocks. She knew this view. She’d looked upon it every night before she’d gone to sleep, ever since the day they’d landed on a high tower painted with a dragon in Andhera.

Her stomach dropped as she stumbled towards the wall and then blinked.

Her eyes flew open, and she sat straight up in bed with a gasp. She was covered in sweat, her pulse racing.

“Zarya,” came Rabin’s deep voice. “What’s wrong?”