Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
A few days later, Zarya sat in her bed, examining the dots she’d pierced into her skin. She tried not to think about what had happened in the forest, though she was failing miserably. Her dreams were plagued with the images she’d seen—screaming monsters and dying armies, fire and ash, and a vast wasteland of nothing.
She also tried not to think of Dhawan’s words, but they wouldn’t stay quiet.
Was the darkness… following her?
She needed to talk to someone. Maybe she could write to Row? The same thing couldn’t be happening again. This had to be something else.
Shaking her head, she cast these thoughts aside for now, determined to focus on the ink tattooed on her arm. If she couldn’t lift it, then she’d have to find another way to break the collars. If she could, then she’d have to confront the next step.
She started on the first dot, using the techniques she’d practiced.
A knock came at her door.
“Come in,” she said, and Yasen swung it open.
“Morning,” he said. “You were back late last night.”
Zarya didn’t look up from where she was concentrating on her arm.
“I was working,” she said.
He made a sound of surprise. “What did you do?”
She looked at him and then her arm. “What I needed.”
She pulled up another tattooed dot, and Yasen let out a low whistle. “You weren’t kidding about making progress.”
She blew out a breath. “I don’t know what else I can do at this point. I’ve tried it on several materials, animal skin and flesh.” She held up her arm. “And now my own skin.”
She fell silent, and Yasen sank on the bed beside her. “But you don’t know how it will affect a real live human who’s been wearing the tattoo for years?”
“Exactly,” she said.
“How did you know the tattoo wouldn’t steal your magic?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I was hoping that just a few dots wouldn’t hurt.”
Yasen shook his head, exasperation crossing his face. “That was incredibly stupid.”
“Probably,” Zarya said, pushing the blanket off her legs and scooting off the bed. “I’m going to tell the Chandras.”
“You are?”
“I want to try this on Farida, but she has a right to know what I’m attempting. It wouldn’t be right to use the darkness on her without making her aware of what I am.”
“I’m worried about how they’ll react,” Yasen said as Zarya dug into her closet for a light blue cotton salwar kameez. She walked into the bathroom to change.
“I am, too,” she shouted from the other room. “But what choice do I have anymore? They already know something is weird about my magic.”
“Yeah,” Yasen said. “I hope…I hope they’re who we think they are.”
Dressed now, Zarya returned to the bedroom. “What do you mean by that?”
“I just think we put a lot of trust into people we’d never met until a few months ago. Once they know your secrets, there will be no putting them back.”
Zarya snapped a silver bangle onto her wrist and tipped her head. “Aw, are you worried about me?”
Yasen glared. “Of course I am. I came along to keep an eye on you, remember?”
She smiled and patted his cheek. “And I’m so glad you did.”
He snorted and then stood. “Okay, let’s go then. I’m coming with you.”
Zarya nodded and linked arms with Yasen.
They entered the street, pressing into the throng of bustling people. More posters plastered every surface, demanding information about the Rising Phoenix and its members. Updated versions included hazy illustrations of two people that Zarya presumed were meant to be her and Yasen. They stopped to scrutinize the drawings.
“Do they look like us?” she asked softly, and Yasen shook his head.
“Not really. But I don’t know how they could have gotten a good enough look at us to compose a proper sketch. My hunch is they’re just pretending they know more than they do to make it seem like they’re in control.”
“Hmm,” Zarya said, hoping that was true. Yasen was right, and between the darkness, their hoods, and her shadows, it would have been impossible to see their faces, but they were dealing with powerful Aazheri, and she had no idea what they were truly capable of.
As if thinking about the Jadugara summoned their presence, a hushed murmur ran through the crowd a moment later. The sea of people was parting, clearing the busy boulevard to press along the sides. Zarya and Yasen had a clear view down the street towards a group of men wearing long blood-red robes with belts made of colorful fabric and embroidered with tiny mirrors and beads.
Everyone fell silent as the Jadugara approached. They eyed the crowd, most of them with thick dark beards, though a few had only a light layer of stubble covering their cheeks. What they all had in common was a straight set to their postures and an imperious tilt to their chins—like men born to privilege who had never had one of their ideas dismissed.
Their appearance set Zarya’s hackles up. She didn’t trust them, especially knowing what she did about the magical ink. They were all hiding something, and her plans included discovering what.
Alongside the men walked various vanshaj servants dressed in white, each holding swinging lit thuribles. The scent of sandalwood drifted into the air, mixing with the smells of the city—food, bodies, and horses. She felt Yasen reach for her wrist, his hand closing around it.
She looked up at him, and silently, they agreed to remain where they stood. Ducking away might draw more attention to themselves than hiding in plain sight. Everyone knew that when the Jadugara approached, you cleared out of the way quickly, and then you stood witness and waited for them to pass. No errand or appointment was considered as important as giving the Jadugara the honor they were due.
It was all such complete bullshit.
The Jadugara took their time as though they were strolling through a garden on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Except for the fact they were glaring at everyone as if trying to peer into the very marrow of the secrets they kept. They were working with the royal family on rooting out the members of the Rising Phoenix, and Zarya had the distinct impression that if anyone were to come forward with information, the only reward they’d get would be the inside of an urn.
As they passed, an Aazheri near the front of the pack turned to look at Zarya. Their gazes met, and she held his stare, determined not to look away. These frauds wouldn’t cow her. Maybe it was foolish, but something about the truths she knew made her bold. She noticed the way his eyes narrowed only a fraction, probably incensed that she hadn’t immediately dropped her gaze to her feet.
She wondered how powerful they really were. Everything she’d read suggested her nightfire made her incredibly strong. Her mother had been notably powerful. Her father regarded as the most powerful Aazheri in Rahajhan, which made her wonder about his magic, too. Could she best any of these men? Probably not all together. But maybe one or two at a time.
“Zee,” Yasen hissed. Zarya hadn’t noticed the entire procession had stopped because the Jadugara were all staring at her now, studying her with disdain like she was a bug to be squished under their boots.
She blinked and slowly lowered her head, staring at her feet. It killed her to do it, but finding herself arrested for this minor infraction would serve no purpose. A hushed breath of silence pulsed through the street, and then, a moment later, the line stirred into motion.
Zarya stood with her eyes down, waiting for the chaos to settle before she looked up at Yasen.
“What was that about?” he asked. “Are you trying to get us killed?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just…”
She wasn’t sure how to explain her feelings, and Yasen didn’t force them out of her.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Just be more careful.”
She nodded, and he tugged on her arm and winked.
“C’mon. Let’s go tell Farida and the Chandras what a monster you are.”