Chapter 10
TEN
“Wow, you two really made a fucking mess of that,” Ajay said as he paced back and forth. They were all gathered in Yasen and Zarya’s apartment several hours later. The pair were still covered in faded ink that had yet to wash away. It would take at least a few more baths before they’d get it out of their skin. The clothes they’d been wearing were completely ruined.
Zarya would have tossed them, anyway. After what happened, she realized how careful she would have to be using her magic around the ink. As it stood, she wouldn’t attempt it until she’d scrubbed off every last drop.
“Oops?” Yasen said, his grin suggesting he was anything but sorry. After they’d absconded from the Imarat, they’d had to scrape off the soles of their shoes on the hard cobbles and avoid touching anything lest they leave a trail, pointing everyone in their direction like a bright, flashing light.
Ajay let out an exasperated huff, but it was hard to ever stay mad at Yasen.
“They’ve doubled their efforts to find out who’s responsible for the bombing,” he said. “They know these two incidents are connected.”
“True,” Farida said, “but they still don’t understand the real reason for what happened last night. They’ll assume we attempted to destroy the last of the stockpile.”
Ajay sighed and ran a hand along the back of his neck.
“That doesn’t make this situation any less precarious. Soon enough, they’ll figure out who’s responsible for this, and they will make someone pay.”
“We knew the risks when we started this,” Rania said, her jaw hardening. “If you want out, then just?—”
“No,” Ajay said. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“People will get hurt, Ajay. That can’t be helped,” his sister said, and his mouth pressed into a flat line, clearly disliking that answer.
“Then we need to ensure that’s as few people as possible.”
“No one got hurt tonight,” Zarya said. “Or at least no one on our side. Do you really care that we inflicted damage on the Jadugara?”
“No, of course not,” Ajay said. “But if we sink to their level, then we’re just as bad as all of them, aren’t we?”
“I don’t know about that,” Zarya grumbled. “Sometimes, the means justify the ends. We’re the ones in the right here.”
Their gazes clashed. Sometimes, they argued. Sometimes, Ajay was too damn noble for his own good. He’d grown up surrounded by vanshaj servants and, like many young people, hadn’t considered their situation in relation to his privilege. She knew he wrestled with that constant guilt, and it made him fight hard against every setback.
“Did you at least get what you went for?” Ajay asked, and Yasen strode over to pick up his stained jacket, pulling out three bottles of ink. Zarya sagged in relief.
“Well done,” she said, reaching out. “I was worried I’d broken them all.”
“About that,” Ajay said, narrowing his gaze. “What exactly happened?”
Zarya knew the question was coming. It was becoming obvious that any thread of her magic, save her sixth anchor, caused the ink to react in volatile ways, and something in the ink was connected to dark magic and the legendary sixth anchor that had been supposedly locked away.
But already Zarya suspected it was a cover-up.
What if the sixth anchor had been used to create the ink? Which would mean she wasn’t the only one with six anchors and they’d all been living a lie.
But she wasn’t ready to confess all of that yet.
“My magic slipped,” she said. “I’m still getting used to how it works.”
While she hadn’t revealed everything about her past to Farida and the Chandras, they did know she only had access to her magic recently. But her stories were wearing thin and starting to show holes; sooner or later, she’d have to come clean.
Ajay’s gaze flickered with wariness. He’d been quick to offer his trust, but she was walking a precarious line. Zarya did have all of their best interests at heart and only wanted to help. She just needed to figure out the best way to reveal these secrets. It’s not like she could just walk around claiming she was the heir to the queen, a member of the royal family, and, more importantly, the one foretold in the prophecy.
And they didn’t even know about the second half of it yet.
She touched the turquoise stone hanging around her neck. She’d replayed her mother’s message, locked inside, so many times that she knew every breath and cadence of her speech. It circled through her thoughts on a constant loop. She was sure the prophecy explained why her magic was connected to the ink and why she had to figure this out. She was destined to help the vanshaj break free of their chains, and she would die trying if she had to.
Before anyone could question her further, Zarya stood, gesturing to the ink. “I’m going to get some sleep and then practice some more with this tomorrow.”
Farida stepped in her way and looked up at Zarya with a hopeful look in her eyes. “Do you really think you can do something with it?”
“I don’t know,” Zarya said. “But I want to try.”
“How?” Rania asked, always the more suspicious of the pair, and Zarya let out a short sigh.
“Just trust me, okay? I’ll tell you everything once I know for sure.”
Rania swallowed, her throat bobbing, but whatever she saw in Zarya’s face convinced her to let it lie for now.
She squeezed Farida’s hand, hoping to offer some reassurance. “Just give me a few more days, and I’ll come to see you.”
Then Zarya headed for her room. She studied her ink-stained hands, wondering if she should have another shower, but she’d been awake since yesterday, and exhaustion weighed heavy on her shoulders.
She settled into her bed as her mind swirled with a million disparate thoughts.
She’d used her sixth anchor in a completely new way tonight, pulling out shadows to shield them from view. She held her hand up, flipping it over, studying her palm and then the back of it. She’d been so afraid of touching this power, but maybe that was foolish. This was her gift. She thought again about the prophecy. Her darkness might be the key to manipulating the ink, and how could it be wrong to use it for such an important purpose?
She flipped over to her side, her hand sliding under her pillow, where she’d stashed a dagger for safekeeping. Ever since leaving Dharati, she’d slept with one eye open, conscious of Row’s warnings about her father, the king of Andhera.
With that sinister thought floating in her mind, she closed her eyes and attempted to drown in the bliss of sleep.
“Tell me about her nightfire?” Abishek asked from where he sat across from Rabin. They were dining in the king’s massive domed solarium, surrounded by greenery, the windows revealing the night sky sparkling with stars overhead. Candles flickered on the table between them, the surface laden with every delicacy the kitchen could conjure.
Abishek had few indulgences—he was a man of restraint and modesty unless royal decorum required otherwise—but he did love to eat.
“It’s mesmerizing,” Rabin said. “Absolute raw power. She was having trouble controlling it after I arrived in Dharati, but I helped her through it thanks to your lessons about Aazheri magic.”
Abishek nodded as he reached for his drink and took a long sip. “And after that?”
“During the battle, she used it against Rani Amrita, assuming it wouldn’t harm her, but…”
Rabin trailed off, remembering the moment when Zarya realized her magic had affected the queen. “But it injured her.”
Abishek’s eyebrows drew together. “Nightfire hurt the queen?”
Rabin nodded and then leaned forward. “I have a theory.”
“Do you?” the king asked, arching a dark eyebrow.
“She asked me questions about the darkness, wondering if it was evil.”
“And?”
“And I explained what you taught me: that the darkness is only another form of magic. Only those who use it with nefarious intentions are evil.”
“Good,” Abishek said, nodding. “But why would she ask such things?”
Rabin shook his head. “I don’t know. But she seemed…relieved by my answers.”
“And what is it you believe?”
“Do you think it’s possible she has the sixth anchor?”
Abishek let out a loud breath and sat back, running a hand down his face.
Rabin thought of the tattoo on his back. Six petals inside a flower, each representing the continent’s magic, save one that sat empty until it could be freed from its seal. With his keen interest in magic, he’d reveled in Abishek’s lessons over the years, absorbing his vast knowledge about every form of magic.
The Ashvins had used the darkness in a way that resulted in their banishment. Ever since, Aazheri magic had been considered tainted, but that was only prejudice.
The king had six anchors—a fact he’d confided only to Rabin, his army commander, Ekaja, and his personal mystic. It was another reason why he believed Row’s claims were false.
But the seal kept others from reaching it, and Abishek’s life’s work centered on breaking down that barrier, hoping to restore full Aazheri power across the continent.
His theory was that anyone who could sense the presence of a wall pressing in on their magic also had six anchors, but a few rare Aazheri, like himself, could already access it due to some outlying factor he hadn’t yet deciphered.
At Rabin’s question, Abishek nodded. “It would make sense my child would have six anchors and that a gift so rare would belong to an Aazheri of such strength.” Rabin watched as the king’s eyes shone, the edges lined with a hint of emotion. The king wasn’t generally a sentimental man, but he held those in his confidence close and cared deeply for them.
“My daughter,” he said softly, drifting off before clearing his throat. “In my many years, I never imagined myself as a father, but knowing she has already achieved such greatness fills me with a pride I never expected…”
His gaze drifted towards the heavens, and Rabin allowed him a moment to collect himself. When the king was ready, he returned his gaze to Rabin.
“How have your experiments with the mind plane been progressing?”
“Very well,” he answered with a dip of his chin. “I was able to conjure the forest.”
“And she was there?” he asked, his eyes wide with interest.
“She was. I didn’t speak to her, but it worked.”
Abishek nodded, his pride in Rabin also evident. “When will you try again?”
“Soon. I’d like to show her this place.” He cast out an arm to encompass their surroundings.
“That is a far more difficult bit of magic,” Abishek said, and Rabin nodded.
“I think I can do it.”
“I have no doubt, my son.” He smiled at Rabin, and he felt his heart twist. A father of sorts. After so many years of craving someone who might be proud of him, this king had filled that raw, gaping void.
“Thank you for your faith in me,” Rabin said, and Abishek dipped his chin.
“You make it easy.” He leaned forward. “But don’t wait too long. I am very eager to meet her.”
“I understand,” Rabin said. “I will not let you down.”