Chapter 3
THREE
TWO MONTHS AGO
Kingdom of Andhera
The mountains of Andhera loomed in the distance as Rabin soared over the landscape, his chest tightening at the sight. Though he hadn’t been away long, this place had become home when his own had rejected him so many years ago.
Banking left, his wings snapped against the frigid atmosphere, and he closed his eyes as a blast of wind slipped over his scales, savoring its fresh bite after the heat and humidity of Dharati. There were days when the stinging cold of the north made him wish for the warm, sandy beaches of the south, but there was also something purifying about the icy air freezing in his lungs.
When Andhera’s sprawling castle—made of dark stone forged from the Pathara Vala mountains—came into view, he arrowed down, swooping over the high towers and the surrounding city. With his keen eyesight, he spied the sentries stationed on the ramparts, watching him with cautious looks. Even after all these years, very few were used to him. Shapeshifters were uncommon enough, but a dragon was something most of these northern people had only heard about in story books.
With a soft thump, his feet hit the stones of a tall tower, wide enough to accommodate his size, before he dissolved into black smoke, shifting back into his rakshasa form. He paused on the high platform, taking in his surroundings: the soaring mountains blanketed with snow and the miles of evergreens spreading in every direction. He inhaled a deep breath of clean air, welcoming the chill snaking down the back of his neck.
He wasn’t properly dressed for this climate, and already the cold nipped at the tips of his ears and fingers. But it made him feel something at least. Turning on his heel, he strode towards the castle, entering through a door, and wound his way down the narrow staircase, planning to see Abishek first. The king of Andhera would expect an update on Rabin’s activities in Daragaab.
After the events with the blight and Dhawan’s betrayal, he’d remained in Dharati to offer whatever assistance he could to Vikram, but his brother wanted nothing to do with him. He’d made it clear Rabin was not welcome in the Jai Palace, and he could take the hint. Though Rabin’s actions were the reason for their strained relationship, he hoped they could find a way to work past this somehow.
Rabin understood he’d condemned his brother to an unwelcome fate as the steward of Daragaab, but how could Vikram have expected him to remain in Dharati when he’d suffered so much at their father’s hand? Gopal had never paid much attention to Vikram, but at least he hadn’t beaten the shit out of him for half of his life. Rabin knew he had bridges to mend with his brother but also refused to feel guilty for choosing himself when he’d been given no alternative.
After Vikram had forbidden Rabin from going anywhere near Zarya, he realized it was time to put some distance between them lest he be tempted to snap his brother’s neck.
Besides, the only person in Daragaab who cared about him was his mother. Though she also bore no love for her husband, she was at least comfortable enough and surrounded by friends. She didn’t really need him, and Rabin had no place there. In this northern kingdom, he’d finally found somewhere to belong.
He entered a long hallway lined with thick scarlet rugs, the dark stone walls hung with intricate woven tapestries. A servant wearing a simple black sari passed him, bowing her head and staring at her feet as he passed. Here, they were all scared of him, too, but after a lifetime of being shamed for his nature, he was learning not to hide who he was any longer.
Stalking through the castle, he approached Abishek’s wing and nodded to the sentries posted outside. They were a bit more accustomed to his presence, and Rabin was one of the few people in the king’s circle permitted entry without question. The only other people on that list included Abishek’s personal mystic, Kishore, and Ekaja, Abishek’s army commander and Rabin’s only real friend.
“He’s in his workroom,” a guard said, and Rabin nodded his thanks.
He entered another long hall lined with wooden paneling engraved with complex enamel art along its length, the bright colors directly contrasting the monotone palette of greys and whites of the snow-capped mountains surrounding them.
He knocked on the door with a sharp rap and waited.
“Enter,” came a voice, and he swung the door open to reveal Abishek’s enormous workroom, which served as part library and part refuge. The king was obsessed with knowledge and research, and the high walls were lined with shelves stuffed full of thousands of books, most of which he’d apparently read at some point.
A large window opened to a view of the mountains, and at the far end was a series of worktables covered in an array of glass vials and bottles, along with scales and a small cauldron where he conducted much of his experimentation. No one knew more about magic in Rahajhan—of every variety—than Raja Abishek.
“You’ve returned,” he said from his workbench, where he was mixing ingredients into a bowl.
“Happy to be home,” Rabin said and gave him a quick bow.
“You’ve been missed.”
Rabin wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Had anyone ever missed him before?
“Are you hungry?” Abishek asked with a wave. Next to him sat a large platter of food—roti and channa, along with a bowl of raita—and a pitcher of water floating with ice.
“I’m good, thank you,” he said.
“Then have a seat. Tell me everything. Did you uncover who your mysterious dream woman is?”
Rabin pulled up a stool and sat across from the king. He folded his hands on the table and took a deep breath. “I did.”
Abishek cocked his head, placing the instrument in his hand on the workbench and offering Rabin his full attention, perhaps sensing Rabin’s inner conflict.
“And? Who is she?”
This is where Rabin hesitated. He’d told Zarya he wouldn’t reveal her existence until she was ready, but he would need Abishek’s help if there was any chance of convincing her to hear him out.
“You’re keeping something from me?” Abishek asked. The question was pointed and a little cold. He wielded a firm grip on his inner circle and demanded obedience in everything. Of course, Abishek would read the truth in him, anyway.
The king had gifts and abilities Rabin couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and given the king’s expression, he didn’t know how he’d ever planned to keep this secret in the first place. That had always been a fool’s hope. A promise offered in a desperate attempt to regain Zarya’s trust.
“I have many things to tell you,” Rabin said, already wondering how he’d beg her forgiveness for this added transgression. “Of significance.”
“Such as?” Abishek asked.
“The woman in my dreams was… is …your daughter.”
A beat of surprised silence filled the room before Abishek shook his head. “My daughter? I don’t understand.”
Rabin opened his mouth and then closed it before sucking in another deep breath that did little to settle the churning in his gut. “I’m not sure I do, either, but she isn’t only connected to me. A thread binds her to you as well.”
“I don’t have a daughter,” Abishek replied, though his tone suggested he was open to being convinced otherwise.
Rabin peered at his mentor, studying his face for any hints of recognition or deception. Any signs the claims Row had made were the truth. Rabin trusted Abishek, but he would also never do anything to endanger Zarya. “You didn’t know about her?”
Abishek blinked in confusion. “Of course I don’t—please explain the meaning of this.”
Rabin nodded and shared the details of Row’s return to Dharati and his story about the queen of Gi’ana. Of what he’d done to protect Zarya by hiding her on the shore. When Rabin finished speaking, Abishek pondered in thoughtful silence for a long minute.
“This is…” He ran a hand over his head, brushing back dark hair that fell to his shoulders in soft waves. The finest lines bracketed his eyes and mouth, and he appeared like a mortal man in his early forties, though he’d lived through many turbulent centuries on this plane. “I’m speechless.” He looked at Rabin, blinking heavily. “Tell me what else happened.”
Rabin then recounted the events during his return to his homeland, including the confrontation with Vikram and his father and what Dhawan had done to try and earn his way back into Abishek’s fold.
The king wrinkled his nose at the mention of the traitorous old Aazheri. “That little worm never had a chance. There was nothing he could do to earn my favor.”
“Well, he’s dead now, so it’s no longer your concern.”
“How?” Abishek asked as a wicked light entered his eyes. “I hope the cranky old shit received a suitably wretched ending.”
Rabin arched a brow. “Your daughter killed him. A sword through the neck.”
The king’s face stretched into a pleased sort of smile. “Did she?”
Rabin nodded, and Abishek blinked heavily again before tilting his head, a softer smile turning up the corner of his mouth. “And what is Zarya like?”
Rabin hesitated before he continued. He hadn’t only remained in Daragaab to help his brother—he had also hoped he could convince Zarya to hear him out. To understand that while he’d made a mistake in lying to her, he hadn’t done so because he’d meant her harm. But she’d left, and Row refused to tell him where she’d gone, nor would he speak to Rabin at all other than to repeat he was not welcome before slamming the door in his face.
Of course, he’d guessed she’d fled to Gi’ana and had taken Yasen with her because he, too, had disappeared. And though he’d wanted to fly straight there, he was resisting the urge to unceremoniously barge into her life. It would do no good to force his presence on her. Zarya wasn’t the type to be swayed until she was ready, which was why he had to talk to her.
“She’s…absolutely ferocious,” Rabin finally answered after a long pause.
Abishek smiled. “I would assume so of any daughter of mine.” He leaned forward. “And her magic?”
“Powerful,” Rabin said. “The charm you gave me to free her from the binding worked as well as we hoped.”
“This binding that was supposedly placed by her mother? By Asha?”
“Yes.”
“Because she believed I wanted to harm Zarya?” Abishek confirmed.
“Also yes.”
Abishek sighed and ran a hand down his face, clearly frustrated by this knowledge.
When Row had shared the story of Zarya and her mother and her father, it had taken all Rabin’s willpower not to jump in and counter Row’s claims, including the absurd notion the king of Andhera would plot to steal his own daughter’s magic. He had more than enough magic of his own.
“I see,” Abishek said after Rabin finished explaining. “After all these years, the prophecy has finally been fulfilled.” He shook his head. “And Row’s infatuation with Asha prejudiced him against me. I cannot blame him for believing the words of the woman he loved, but I also cannot pretend it doesn’t sting after all the years we spent together.”
“It’s a lie, then?” Rabin asked. He felt guilty for the question but also wanted to be sure. He wouldn’t ever willingly put Zarya in danger. He’d meant everything he’d told her, even if it had come too late. Something he’d regret forever.
“Do you believe I’d harm my own child?” Abishek asked. “I’d only wish to know her. I don’t know why her mother believed this of me, but it weighs on my heart.” Abishek folded his hands and peered at Rabin. “I would never hurt her.”
“Yes,” he said. “Sorry. I just…”
“It’s fine.” He waved a hand. “You are right to always question things. Only fools believe whatever they’re told.”
“Right,” Rabin said, his tense shoulders easing.
Abishek reached for his water and took a sip while Rabin allowed him to absorb the heaviness of these secrets.
“Something else weighs on your mind?” Abishek asked a moment later, ever perceptive of everyone and everything around him. “Where is she now?”
Rabin hesitated again, wondering how much to reveal. Should he explain his feelings for Zarya? That they’d quickly turned from fascination to so much more? That from the first moment he’d seen her, he’d felt something that made his entire body sing with the promise of their future? Could he hide this secret, either?
She had been a stranger when he’d first told Abishek about the woman walking in his dreams, but now…he wasn’t sure how to explain what he felt. He doubted a father would want to hear about the nights of passion they’d shared. So Rabin decided to keep that aspect of theirrelationship to himself for now. Assuming it was possible to keep anything from Abishek for long. At least he would until he could convince Zarya to listen to him. But first, he had to find her and he’d need the king’s help for that.
“I’m not sure,” Rabin said. “We parted ways. I wasn’t entirely forthright about my relationship with you, and when she found out, she believed I meant her harm, too.”
“Because of what Row told her?”
Rabin nodded and rubbed his hands against his thighs in a nervous gesture. “Have you ever heard the term ‘paramadhar’?” he asked, and Abishek’s thick, dark eyebrows drew together.
“I have,” he said. “But they are very rare.” He paused for a split second before adding, “The dreams.”
“Yes,” Rabin said. “She was in possession of a notebook that once belonged to you. It talked about paramadhar, and she believed we might be connected.”
“A notebook of mine?”
“Apparently, Row took it from Rani Aishayadiva, believing it to be hers.”
The groove between Abishek’s eyes deepened. “Did she mention anything else she’d found in it?”
“Only that the Jai Tree was the seal holding in the darkness. That was how we knew Dhawan had double-crossed us.”
Again, Abishek appeared puzzled, but he gestured for Rabin to continue.
“I was wondering if there was some way to control the visions?” Rabin asked. “Could I summon her to the forest?”
Abishek scanned the many shelves filling the room. “I’m sure there’s something that may help.”
“I want to see her again,” Rabin confessed. “I’d like to apologize for deceiving her, and if I can talk to her again, then maybe I can convince her to come to Andhera and meet you.”
Abishek studied Rabin from head to toe, giving him a piercing look that made Rabin wonder if he already suspected the truth about his feelings for Zarya.
“I would like that very much,” he said after a moment.
Rabin’s fist clenched against the table, a twist of guilt burning in the back of his throat for deceiving his mentor.
“So you’ll help me find her?”
“Of course, my son. Anything you need. Let’s bring Zarya home.”