Page 89 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin

Finally, she reached a landing and another door, this one made of heavy iron, banded with more iron, and secured with heavy bolts.

Her heart climbed into her throat.

She crossed the landing slowly, the floor cold under her slippered feet. She tried the handle, not surprised when it offered no give. Swallowing her nerves, she filtered out a thread of air magic into the lock, prodding the mechanism until it clicked with an echo that seemed to ricochet throughout the entire castle.

Then she reached for the handle and turned.

The door swung open on oiled hinges, suggesting they were the only thing cared for in this neglected tower. That overwhelming sense of déjà vu hit her again as it revealed a round room with windows overlooking a snowy landscape.

And in the corner…

A woman.

Zarya blinked as her heart beat with such force that her vision swam. She clung to the door for support, sure her knees were about to melt out from under her.

She inhaled several deep breaths through her nose, willing her pulse to settle. Bile crept up the back of her throat, and her limbs trembled.

Finally, she managed to take a step and then another before she crossed the room and fell to her knees. The woman huddled against the wall, hugging her legs to her chest. She was whispering something over and over that Zarya couldn’t make out.

She wore only a threadbare shift and was so thin that bones jutted from her joints at alarming angles. A tray sat beside her with a bowl of congealing rice swarming with a cloud of fruit flies.

The woman didn’t move except for the barest flutter of her rattling breath and her lips chanting something in a ragged whisper.

Zarya lifted a hand to reach her and then stopped.

She didn’t want to frighten Asha. Did she know Zarya was here?

“Hello?” she whispered softly. “Are you okay?”

As soon as the question left her mouth, Zarya cursed. Obviously, she wasn’t okay. Obviously, she’d been locked in here and forgotten, left to starve in the cold.

Zarya swallowed down the acid in her throat as she crawled around the woman to get a better look at her face.

She’d already known what she would find. The dreams had already told her.

But there was no mistaking this was the same woman she’d seen in the drawing in Row’s study. She really did look just like Zarya, down to that line between her eyebrows that always appeared when she was worried.

Zarya exhaled a choked breath. She’d hoped she’d just been dreaming. She’d hoped this wasn’t real. But what did any of this mean?

“Mother,” Zarya whispered, and the word seemed to hang in the air, suspended between them like something plucked from the threads of fate. “What has he done to you?”

Because she knew this was him. Abishek. Row’s warnings came rushing back. All this time, he’d been right. Anyone who could do something like this was evil. What could her mother possibly have done to warrant such naked cruelty?

“Mother?” she asked, suddenly feeling like a small child as tears pressed into her throat. She’d spent every single day of her life wishing for a mother. For a family to call her own. Her mother was dead. She’d lived her entire life shaped by that truth, but now here she was, returned from the grave.

But only barely.

How was she even alive at all?

Asha stopped whispering and looked up at Zarya, distant recognition reflecting in the depths of her eyes.

“Mother,” Zarya said. “It’s me, Zarya. I don’t know what’s happened or why you’re here, but I will get you out.”

She wasn’t sure why or how she believed that, but at that moment, it suddenly seemed more important than anything.

Asha blinked again, her brow furrowing. Zarya stared at her. Her eyes were brown with flecks of green, just like Zarya’s. There was something so infinitely sad buried in their depths that she felt her heart crack and leak between her ribs. She wanted to hug her. Wrap her in her arms and protect her until the end of her days.

“Row,” Asha whispered. “Row.”