Chapter 6
SIX
Once they’d set Apsara and Suvanna up in their guest bedroom, Zarya convinced Yasen to accompany her into the forests beyond the city, where she was hoping to explore her magic’s strange reaction to the ink.
She also planned to tell him the truth about everything. She couldn’t keep this secret festering inside her any longer and had to share it with someone . She only hoped he wouldn’t look at her differently.
But he already knew more than anyone, including her dreams in the forest with Rabin and her reaction to Meera’s tattoo in Dharati. He’d been the first witness to her magic, and he’d never let her down. She knew she could trust him with this.
A loud smack followed by a huff of annoyance drew her attention behind her. Yasen was frowning as he flicked his fingers. “What are we doing out here exactly?” he asked. “I’m being eaten alive by these fucking things.” Another smack and another grunt signaled the untimely death of yet another mosquito.
Zarya waved a hand, forming a thin shield of air around them both, blocking out the tiny bloodsuckers.
“You couldn’t have done that twenty minutes ago?” Yasen asked, stomping through the bushes. “I was dying.”
She huffed out a laugh. Yes, she could have done that twenty minutes ago, but where would the fun have been in that?
“Poor Yas,” Zarya said. “Such a tough life.”
He snorted. “Tell me you at least brought something to drink.”
“That I can do,” she said, digging into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulling out a small silver flask. After tossing it to him, he opened it and then sighed.
“Much better.”
They walked in silence for a little longer while Yasen nursed his drink.
“How much further are we going?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. We need just the right spot.”
“Oh, thank you, very helpful,” he grumbled, but she ignored him as they continued to push through the bushes. The smoke from the factory explosion was finally starting to clear, and the high moon offered just enough light through the tree cover. It wasn’t a particularly dense forest, so Zarya wanted to be deep enough to properly shield them. After another few minutes, they came upon a small clearing with a large, flat rock in the center.
“This looks good,” Zarya said, coming to a stop while Yasen collapsed on the stone with a dramatic flourish, as though she’d just asked him to climb a thousand-foot mountain and not take a stroll through a lovely forest on a pleasant night.
“Thank gods,” he said. “I thought I was going to die.”
“Aren’t you a trained soldier?” she asked, and he grinned.
“Yes, but I hate exercise.”
She laughed because she didn’t believe that for a moment and then circled around the clearing, ensuring they couldn’t see the glow of the city lights in any direction. Everything stood quiet, suggesting they were as alone as they could be without turning this into a multi-day excursion.
“Can you finally tell me what we’re doing out here?” Yasen asked, sipping from the flask as he sat forward with his knees spread and his elbows on his thighs.
“Yes,” she said, rummaging through her bag again and pulling out a bottle of ink, shivering as her fingers wrapped around the glass. “We are going to practice with this.”
“We?”
“Well, I am, and you’re going to watch.”
“Lucky for me. Why?”
“Moral support,” she said, and he cocked his head in a gesture that said fair enough .
She held the bottle up to the light, twisting it left and right to watch the swirls of iridescence churn like ribbons floating through water. “When I tried this the other day in Rania’s apartment, things went a little awry.”
“In what way?”
“I’ll show you. Can you stand up?”
He rolled his eyes and made a rather impressive show of heaving himself off the rock before standing next to her. She pulled out a small bowl, placed it in the center of the stone, and added a few drops of ink.
“Okay, don’t get too close,” she warned.
“Why not?”
“You’ll see.”
Then she called up her magic, again pulling on her spirit anchor. A wispy ribbon of glowing light spread from her fingertips and touched the ink. Like last time, the ink exploded, spraying up as the dish flew off the rock, smacking into a tree with a thunk before it dropped into the grass with a hiss. Zarya exchanged a look with Yasen, whose entire forehead pleated with concern and confusion.
“What did you just do, Swamp Girl?”
Zarya pressed her lips together and approached the stone to find a black mark smudged across the surface.
“Zee?” Yasen asked, his voice unusually soft. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She looked up at him. “So when Rania tried to do that… that didn’t happen.”
He tipped his head, waiting for her to continue.
“Her magic worked as expected and warmed it up.”
Yasen approached and clasped her shoulder. “Is this related to whatever you’ve been hiding for the last few months?” he asked.
She blinked. Of course he’d noticed.
“You didn’t think I’d pick up on the whole seeing that creepy army that no one else could? Or that Meera could see it, too?”
Zarya let out a long breath as he released his hold. “You didn’t say anything.”
“I was giving you space. It was obviously bothering you.”
She gave him a tight smile. Yasen could pretend he didn’t care and didn’t like people, but he was good and kind. Even if he never wanted anyone to realize that.
“How much do you know about Aazheri magic?” she asked, holding up her hand as though the answers were written on her palm.
“Just the basics,” he said. “Five elements. The more you have, the stronger you are.”
“Right,” she answered. “The five anchors. But did you know there was once a sixth?”
He settled onto the scorched rock and drew her down next to him.
“I’ve heard of it,” he said, his expression giving nothing away. “I remember Koura talking about it. The brothers…” he said. “The Ashvin twins had it?”
“Right. And that’s what they were supposedly protecting everyone from when they caged the vanshaj.”
She gave him a significant look, waiting for him to sort the pieces she was offering up like shattered pieces of crystal.
“The Ashvins had a sixth anchor. And…the vanshaj did, too?” he asked slowly.
She shook her head. “The Ashvins did, and I’m not exactly sure what the vanshaj have yet. But I’m almost positive my magic is connected to this ink.”
“Because…” he said slowly, circling his hand.
“Because I have six anchors.” She grimaced as the words seared her tongue. Now that she’d said them out loud, they felt like they were floating on the wind for the world to judge and examine, never to be taken back.
Yasen’s shoulders slumped. “Well…shit.”
“I discovered it the night of the binding ceremony,” she said. “When I killed the kala-hamsa, it exploded out of me along with my nightfire.”
Yasen ran a hand down his face. “That’sbig, Zee.”
“I know,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest. “It’s been sitting there like a lead brick, and everyone’s so sure it can’t be touched, but I can.” She couldn’t keep the fear and the loneliness out of her voice. Yasen’s expression softened as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer. She circled her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest.
“And you were worried what everyone would say,” he said as she nodded against him.
“The morning after the attack, I was planning to run away. I thought this was why Row had hidden me. That he knew and he’d locked me away so I could never hurt anyone. I thought I had to go somewhere where no one would find me.”
He stroked the back of her head, allowing her the chance to confess all the worries she’d been carrying for months.
“But then Row showed up and told me the real reason, which convinced me he didn’t actually know what I was hiding. And when I learned that my nightfire killed the demons, I wanted to stay and help.”
“I’m glad you did,” he said, and her heart squeezed inside her chest.
She pulled away and leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees as she twisted her fingers together.
“And now what?” Yasen asked. “Why did we come out here?”
She looked over at him. “Because I have a theory.”
Her gaze flicked to the charred copper bowl that lay in the dirt.
“You think you need to use your sixth anchor,” he said, picking up on the train of her thoughts.
“I’m not entirely sure, but I’m wondering if I can manipulate the ink with it. However, I wanted to see what my other anchors did first.”
“Makes sense,” he said, standing up. “So let’s try it.”
She stared up at him. “This doesn’t change anything?” she asked, and he frowned.
“Change what?”
“Us? You still want to be myfriend?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m tainted. I’m…a monster,” she whispered.
His expression softened as he reached out a hand and pulled her up. “Maybe. But you’re my monster, and nothing will ever change that, Zee.”
Zarya’s eyes stung. She’d been so worried, and of course, Yasen wouldn’t judge her.
“Just don’t cry.”
She snorted a laugh and then picked up the half-empty bottle of ink.
“I don’t have much to practice with,” she said. “I really wish I hadn’t dropped that crate.”
He considered that. “I’m sure we can get more if we need it. The Jadugara must have some stockpiled in the Taara Den.”
“They won’t give us any.”
He shrugged. “No. But we’ll steal it again.”
“Okay. Right,” she said, some of the tension releasing from her shoulders. He always knew what to say to make her feel better.
“So try the other anchors.” He bent down and retrieved the bowl, handing it to her. She poured some ink into the well and then centered it on the rock. They retreated into the shadows of the trees, using them for cover.
“Let’s try fire,” she said as she twisted out a tendril of orange magic. Delicately, she touched the surface and wasn’t all that surprised when the ink flared, spurting up in a tall column of flames before sputtering out. They shared a look, and Zarya walked over to find a pile of ash in the bottom of the bowl.
“Well, I can’t try that on Farida.”
“No. Rania would gleefully pull out each of your toenails.”
She gave him a rueful smile.
Zarya then cycled through the rest of her elements. Her water anchor vaporized the ink into mist, and air froze it solid. Her earth anchor caused the ink to transform into crumbling dirt, which at first seemed promising. Maybe she could use that to break apart the tattoos. But a moment later, it started to corrode the copper, burning a hole right through the metal until only a ring remained.
“None of these will work,” she said grimly.
Zarya then tried a few combinations of elements, but each had the same end result: fire, explosions, or the production of corrosive substances, which she absolutely couldn’t try on a living person.
Well into the second bottle of ink now, she poured the remainder into another bowl.
“This is the last of it,” she said before placing it on the rock.
Then she closed her eyes, feeling for her sixth anchor. It had been months since she’d accessed it, but there it was, waiting for her. A little more muted but still glowing like melting silver. She heard Yasen moving around in the grass behind her and backed up with him.
From where she stood, she stared at the bowl in the center of the clearing, starlight reflecting off the ink’s dark surface.
“We could try another night if you aren’t ready,” Yasen offered.
“No,” she replied with her jaw clenched. “I need to figure this out.”
She reached inside herself, feeling for the tendril of darkness, and slowly drew it out. This was the first time she’d ever called it up on its own, having previously used it only in combination with the others to create her strongest nightfire. The magic felt cool and slippery, like caressing satin ribbons. It had a certain kind of seductive beauty as it swirled across the clearing. At first, it appeared like a whisp of dark smoke, but it reflected the light with a million shades of muted color. It reminded her of the scales on Rabin’s dragon. Like moonlight over an oil-slicked pond.
She twisted her fingers as the shadowy ribbon spiraled over the bowl, and then she held her breath as the tip touched the ink.
It didn’t explode, and it didn’t catch fire. It didn’t dissolve into a toxic substance. She felt it dip into the liquid, and then she twisted her magic as the darkness stirred the ink, gently moving it around in the bowl. She shifted left to right, feeling how it responded to her magic. Without realizing it, she’d started moving, and the closer she got, the more control she had.
She pulled back and lifted her hand as a thin tendril of ink spiraled up from the surface. Drawing it higher, she formed a loop that curled through the air.
She fed in more magic, feeling every individual particle of the ink, manipulating them, and shaping them into patterns that obeyed her silent commands. Slowly, she directed the ribbon back into the bowl, where it dissipated into a pool of ink once again.
She held still for a moment and then puffed out her cheeks before she looked at Yasen, who stood with his hands stuffed into his back pockets.
“Well, that was something,” he said.
“Yeah,” she replied.
Something indeed.
She just wasn’t sure what yet.