Chapter 5
FIVE
Zarya stood rooted to the spot as she watched the royal procession draw near. Musicians walked alongside the float, pouring out the strains of a medley, and it was clear this entire spectacle had been choreographed for a reason.
A distraction. The Rising Phoenix had gotten one up on the Madans, and they would not lose face by cowering behind the walls of their palace.
Dancers cartwheeled down the street while bare-chested men blew fire from their mouths. The crowd watched on and clapped with delight despite the ash raining from the sky.
Surrounding the float marched the fabled queensguard, decked out in pure white sherwanis trimmed with silver and bright red sashes crossing their chests. The elite branch of guards was charged with protecting the royal family, particularly their queen, and culled from only the very best soldiers in the continent.
The float came into Zarya’s line of vision, and she felt something twist in her chest at the sight of the five people standing atop. She’d yet to see them this up close before, but she had learned enough from Row and her time spent in Ishaan to recognize the various members of the royal family.
The king consort, Kabir, stood at the front, waving to the crowds below. He looked about Row’s age, closer to a middle-aged human, with wavy midnight hair and the slightest crinkle at the corners of his eyes.
He wasn’t Zarya’s father, and she had no blood connection to this man, but he had been married to her mother, and she wondered if he might have become her pseudo-father had things gone differently. What kind of man was he? He looked regal in his cream sherwani embroidered with gold, more gold adorning every finger on his hands.
Next to him stood the woman who occupied most of Zarya’s focus. Dishani, her sister. Half-sister. The woman who waited in the wings for her crown. Her coronation had been announced weeks earlier, and finally, she would become Gi’ana’s queen.
The laws of Ishaan included a statute of limitations that expired after twenty years in the event of a missing royal who was presumed dead but whose body was never found. Given Asha disappeared shortly after Zarya’s birth, the timing lined up for Dishani to assume the mantle.
She was beautiful—her entire disposition dripping with confidence and the indefinable noble quality of someone raised in a life of privilege. The way she held herself. The exact angle of her nose held in the air. The careful way she waved to the people below and the calculated manner in which she turned her neck, slowly but not too slowly. She wore a sari of the deepest royal blue, covered with silver beading. In her hair was a piece of black netting pinned to the side of her perfect bun.
Dishani was absolutely breathtaking to behold. She was already a queen. There was no doubt this was her destiny and her purpose.
Suddenly, Zarya felt a rush of insecurity sweep into her bones. How could she ever present herself to these people? They were different than Amrita had been—she was humble and down to earth—but it was clear Princess Dishani wouldn’t tolerate even a speck of dust on her shoes. The crowds cheered as she passed, while that practiced smile never wavered. Her dark eyes weren’t exactly cold, but they lacked any kind of warmth. She was driven to do her duty and would do it with every fiber of her being.
The crowd dipped their heads as she passed, many murmuring soft words of benediction and prayer. Zarya continued to watch in wide-eyed fascination.
Finally, she turned her attention to the rest of her half-siblings.
The other woman she knew was Advika, the second youngest of the lot. Her round cheeks were dusted with pink blush, and her big green eyes were surrounded by thick lines of kohl. She wore a bright pink lehenga adorned with colorful beading and flowers woven into her hair. It was said she was the easygoing one between the sisters, more interested in parties and her numerous suitors than politics of state. Her warm smile clearly endeared her to the mooning crowd.
The two men were her brothers. She wasn’t entirely sure which was which, but she guessed the one facing the side was Talin, the youngest. She’d heard he was considered a bit of a loose cannon, drinking, gambling, and enjoying the brothels that filled the Khushi District. He sat on a small divan, upholstered in red velvet, with one ankle crossed over a knee. His hair hung in loose, disheveled waves around his ears, and the opened buttons of his crisp white shirt showed off a sliver of warm brown chest.
He offered an insouciant smile to the crowd, not bothering to wave, just waggling his eyebrows as a greeting. The way everyone reacted to him made it obvious he was one of the royal favorites.
Finally, Zarya watched the last man, Miraan, her eldest brother and the second oldest of the Gi’ana siblings. It was said he was Dishani’s right hand and her most trusted advisor. The way he radiated competence even from this distance made it easy to understand why.
He wore a tailored black sherwani absent of adornments, and his straight shoulder-length hair was neatly tied at his nape with a strip of black leather. Watching over the crowd with his posture straight and his hands behind his back, his thick eyebrows were drawn together in a tight V , his dark eyes assessing everything.
He seemed so serious, and she wondered what was going through his head. It was hard to separate her desire to know these people from the things they allowed to happen in their home.
“Zee!” She turned at the sound of her name to find Yasen shoving through the crowd. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“And I’ve been right here,” she said, practically hearing the roll of his eyes.
He fell silent as they watched the float pass, his eyes glued on Miraan.
“He’s cute,” Zarya remarked before she tipped her head and squinted. “In a severe kind of way.”
The corners of Yasen’s mouth pressed together, but he didn’t respond. They continued watching until the procession had passed, trailed by a few more acrobats, elephants, more soldiers, and a smaller float with some fancily dressed people that Zarya assumed were lesser nobility. They elicited far fewer cheers and benedictions from the crowd, and she couldn’t blame them.
The way they all sat there wrapped in their jewels, staring with mistrust at everyone on the street, made them look like a petulant bunch of children. Where the royal family knew how to engage the masses, these only repelled.
When everyone had finally passed, Yasen grabbed Zarya’s arm and pulled her over.
“Come on,” he said, dragging her through the crowds.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why were you looking for me? Is everything okay?” She realized that Yasen hunting for her in the middle of the street might be a worrisome sign. “Has something happened?”
“Relax,” he said with his usual exasperated air. “Wouldn’t I tell you if something bad happened?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” she replied, and he laughed.
“Good point. Don’t worry, this is a good surprise.”
“Okay,” she said, still skeptical but willing to concede he probably was being truthful. As much as he liked to tease her, he also knew when to be serious—sometimes.
A short while later, they arrived at the doorway to their apartment.
“Well, this isn’t very exciting,” she remarked. “In case you’ve forgotten, I live here.”
“You’re so annoying,” he said, and she laughed.
They ascended the stairs and Yasen threw open the door. Curiosity eating at her now, she stepped into their apartment, half expecting some wild animal Yasen had decided to purchase in the market to knock her down while he stood over her and told her that its teeth weren’t that big.
“What?” she asked, scanning the empty apartment until she saw two familiar figures standing on the balcony.
“Apsara!” she said, throwing her arms around the winged woman before she pulled away and then faced Suvanna, whom she did not attempt to hug. “What are you both doing here?”
Apsara and Suvanna exchanged a glance, and then Apsara said, “We heard you could use some help.”
“How?” Zarya asked, exchanging a worried glance with Yasen.
“Row,” Apsara answered. “I was asking about you, and he mentioned everything you’ve been up to. Fear not, your secrets are safe.”
During her months in Dharati, Zarya had sensed the innate goodness of the Chiranjivi. They were noble and had never been corrupted by their unique power. Perhaps that was exactly why the gods had selected them in the first place.
“Then I’m so happy you’re here! Did Yasen make you some tea?”
Suvanna arched an eyebrow and stared at him. “He neglected to get to that part.”
“Would you like some tea?” Yasen asked in a deadpan voice.
“Love some,” Suvanna replied, her expression stone cold.
“Very well.”
Yasen spun around and made his way to the small kitchen in the corner of the room while the women settled at the table that served as their dining space.
“Where have you both been?” Zarya asked. “What have you been up to?”
“After I left Dharati, I returned home,” Apsara said. “It had been far too long.”
“Me as well,” Suvanna said as Yasen placed some mugs on the table and then returned with a silver pot a few moments later.
“And how were things at home?” Zarya asked while she poured tea.
“Restless,” Apsara said, her brows pinching together before she sipped her chai. “Word of vanshaj rebellions has reached even the highest mountain peaks and is filtering into every realm. I’ve been writing with Kindle, and it’s the same in Bhaavana. He’s been busy working with a small but growing rebellion hiding out near their borders. The time is coming for a change.”
“What about you?” Zarya asked Suvanna, who shrugged.
“We don’t have vanshaj in Matsya. They can’t breathe underwater.”
“Oh,” Zarya said.
“But that is only circumstance. I have no doubt that if it were possible, they would also live amongst my people.” Her stern expression suggested what she thought about that.
“When Row told us what you two have been up to, we knew we had to come immediately to help where we could,” Apsara said before taking another sip of her tea.
“Row’s not coming, is he?” Zarya asked. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, but she wasn’t eager to live under the careful scrutiny of a guardian again. She needed her space and freedom, and no matter what Row said, he would always watch out for her in a way no one else would.
Apsara chuckled. “He said to assure you that he’s staying where he is unless you need his help. He’s got his hands full in Dharati, regardless.”
Zarya nodded. She knew from the letters they’d exchanged that riots in support of vanshaj freedom were also amassing in her former home. It seemed that a pinhole that had been leaking water for centuries was suddenly close to bursting. Like one card falling, it had taken just a few rumors spreading across the continent to start toppling them all.
“You’ll need vetting before you can be allowed into the Phoenix,” Yasen said, leaning against the counter with an ankle crossed over the other and his mug cradled in a hand.
“Understood. We’re happy to offer whatever assurances we can,” Apsara said solemnly before she looked out the window where clouds of smoke still hazed the sky. “Are you responsible for that?”
She looked back at Zarya and Yasen, and their silence confirmed the truth.
“Posters have been hung,” Zarya said to him. “They’re offering a lot of money to anyone with information.”
Yasen nodded. “I noticed that. This all just got a lot more dangerous.”
At that moment, a knock sounded at the apartment door. Three quick raps, followed by two slower ones with two beats between them. Zarya and Yasen exchanged a look.
“Well, I guess there’s no time like the present,” he said with a grin as he strode to the door and opened it.
The three women watched as he conversed with Ajay in a low voice for a moment. Then he stepped aside, and Ajay entered, his gaze wandering to Zarya before it settled on Apsara and Suvanna.
“Hello,” he said with a small bow. “Yasen tells me you’re friends of his.”
“I’m Apsara. I hail from Vayuu,” Apsara said, pressing her hands together in front of her heart with the tip of her head. Suvanna remained in her seat, her posture relaxed, and her arms crossed as she assessed Ajay. “And that is Suvanna of Matsya.”
“Apsara and Suvanna were instrumental in helping us defeat the blight in Daragaab,” Zarya said. “They can be trusted.”
“You’re sure of that?” Ajay said, his eyes narrowing. She knew he was only being cautious. So many lives hung in the balance if they made one wrong move.
“Absolutely,” Apsara said. “We came here to help in whatever way we can. We are at your service and vow to keep any secrets you share. We also live to see the vanshaj freed.”
Ajay considered them and then turned to Yasen and Zarya. “I came because I have bad news.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“The explosion spooked the royal family. My palace informants report that harsher laws will soon be passed down for the vanshaj and anyone aiding them. They’re mobilizing more patrols through the vanshaj district to root out possible resistance members. They’re no longer pretending we don’t exist.”
“How much worse can the laws possibly be?” Yasen asked as they all shook their heads. No one knew or wanted to know the answer to that question.
Ajay addressed Suvanna and Apsara once again. “You understand what’s at stake here?”
They both nodded.
“Absolutely.”
Ajay dipped his chin. “Then you are welcome as far as I’m concerned. We could use as many powerful allies as possible. But first, you’ll need to meet our leader.”