Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
The next morning, Zarya opened her eyes to find Yasen staring at her from the other side of the bed. He lay on his side with one hand propped up under his head.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said.
She flinched, yanking the blanket up to her chin. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Did you know you snore?”
She made a sound of indignation. “I do not!”
“You do. It’s like listening to a rhinoceros with a sinus cold.”
She burst out laughing. “Shut up. It is not.”
He laughed, too, and then said, “I’m staring because you’ve been avoiding me every time I bring up the topic of what you got up to during your little trip to see our nemesis, the dragon shifter. And now I’m not letting you out of my sight until you come clean.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
That earned her an eye roll. “Please. You ran out of here like your pants were on fire and disappeared for three days. Why did you return with Rabin, and did you let him plow the field again?”
She snorted and shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
He grinned, and she blew out a breath before sharing everything. When she was done, Yasen offered her a skeptical raise of his eyebrow.
“And you believe him?”
“I think so,” she said.
“So, why are you sleeping in here with me?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Because I’m still on the fence.”
“About?”
“About trusting him. I think I believe him, but I also don’t know if I should rely on my instincts. They haven’t always been the most reliable.”
He nodded. “And what are they telling you?”
“That he didn’t hurt me on purpose, and though he messed up, I understand why he didn’t initially admit the truth. Also, I think he tried, but then we got swept up in the battle for Dharati, and he never had another opportunity before it was over.”
Yasen flopped back onto his pillow before turning his head. “I’ve always believed him to behonorable.”
“I know. And that might be part of what’s swaying me.”
He shrugged, the movement rustling the sheets. “I also haven’t seen him in decades, so he could be an entirely different person now.”
“I know that, too. But do we ever really change the essence of who we are?”
He reached out a hand and wrapped it around hers. “I suppose not. Just be careful, okay?”
“Of course, I will be. Thanks, Yas.”
She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek just as a knock came at the door.
“Zarya,” came Rabin’s rough voice, threaded with authority. She rolled her eyes and slid out of bed.
“What?” she asked, opening the door. Wearing only shorts for sleeping and a thin, sleeveless top, she felt his tactile gaze travel over her body, causing an inconvenient flare between her thighs. She used the door to shield herself, not that it helped. At all.
She frowned. “What do you want? Why are you banging on my door so early?”
“We need to see the mystic today.”
She scrunched her eyebrows together. “Who?”
“To perform the Bandhan.”
“Rabin—” After his declaration in the forest yesterday, she knew he was right. But she also hadn’t technically agreed to anything yet. Despite her best efforts, she’d spent a good part of last night tossing and turning, thinking about that kiss and kind of wishing she hadn’t stopped, all while wondering if she was really considering binding herself to him forever.
“Zarya, you know we must.”
Rabin regarded her with that signature intense look in his eyes, his expression serious. She dropped the door handle and rubbed her face with both hands. Binding herself to him would mean crossing a chasm she was trying to avoid. They could never be anything casual again. But this wasn’t only about her feelings. This was about the vanshaj and everything they stood to lose if she failed at her task.
Rabin was in her life. Nothing would change that. A part of her—maybe a larger one than she wanted to admit—wanted that.
“We can do it in Ishaan?” she asked.
He dipped his chin. “Row has a contact.”
“Today?” she asked, hoping he’d give her more time. But that was also a luxury none of them could afford.
Rabin planted his hand on the door and pressed it open. He stepped into the room, towering over her like he was prone to do. “This is inevitable. Why delay? The longer we remain unbonded, the longer it will be until I can fully protect you.”
She took in those words, still hesitating as she peered up. Her stomach did a little flip, and she cursed her body’s involuntary reactions.
But she had to do this. For their cause. To fulfill her destiny. She’d been granted nightfire—possibly the only thing that could quickly break the collars—and then fate had also granted her with a protector and a way to control the magic. She’d always known he was a part of a pattern she couldn’t see yet. But now it became clear. They were meant for this.
“Okay.” Zarya ran a hand down her face. “Let me get dressed.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.” He said it so sincerely and with such fiery passion that a secret spot in her stomach fluttered.
Their gazes held, and she understood that he didn’t mean only right now.
She nodded. “Give me a few minutes.”
When she closed the door and spun around, she found Yasen sitting up, arms folded and brow raised.
“What was that about?”
Pressing her back against the door, she blew out a long sigh. “Apparently, he’s officially becoming my paramadhar today.”
He opened his mouth and paused. “Are you sure about this?”
“Not really,” she said, and Yasen frowned. “Okay, I’m lying.”
“About?”
“The idea scares me, but it also kind of excites me…it’s crazy that I want to be bonded to him, but I kind of do. He said it didn’t have to be romantic. He said he would want to be my paramadhar no matter our relationship.”
“And you believe him?”
“I think I do. If we’re destined for one another, then don’t I have to do this?”
“Maybe?”
She pushed off the door and started rifling through the pile of her clothing tossed on the chair. “Besides, after the way my magic behaved in the clearing, I’m sure this is the key to controlling my nightfire. He thinks so, too. This could be the edge we need to free the vanshaj once and for all.”
Yasen tipped his head. “Are you sure you’re not just looking for what you want to see?”
She stopped and turned to look at him. “I don’t think I am.”
He nodded. “Then I trust you to make good decisions, Zee. You’re not that naive girl who escaped the swamp all those months ago.”
Zarya gave him a rueful look. “I think a part of me will always be that girl, but I think I’m growing, too.”
His answering smile was soft and maybe a little proud. “Do what you need to, Zee, and just know I’m here no matter what.”
She felt tears build in her eyes as she crossed the room and threw her arms around his neck. He was warm and solid and was her family in a way that no one ever had been. “I love you, Yas.”
He drew her in closer, hugging her around the waist. “Don’t cry on me.”
“I’m not,” she said in a thick voice as a tear rolled down her cheek.
Yasen snorted. “You’re so…emotional.”
She laughed and wiped her tears before finally choosing a long black dress made of light fabric that fit over her bust, flowed to her ankles, and left her arms bare. She tied her hair up and swept on a bit of makeup, not at all hoping Rabin would think she looked nice.
When she was done, she headed into the living room to find him perched on the edge of a chair, prepared to leap out of his skin.
“I’m ready,” she said, spreading her arms. Row and Koura sat at the kitchen table nursing mugs of chai.
“For what?” Row asked.
“To visit the mystic,” Rabin answered. “You said you’d tell us where to find them.”
“Now? Isn’t that a little sudden?” Row asked, clearly having all the same reservations.
“Now,” Rabin said in a tone that invited no room for arguments. Row glared at Rabin and then turned to Zarya.
“I’ve agreed to it,” she said, and when she saw he was about to protest, she lifted a hand before explaining how her magic had reacted with Rabin at her side. “I want this, andI’m hoping this can help me control my nightfire enough to help.”
Row nodded slowly, his gaze full of distrust. “It might, but Zarya, this cannot be undone. Once you complete the Bandhan, there is no turning back. The only way to sever it is with his death.” Row scanned Rabin up and down. “Not that I’d object to that.”
Rabin said nothing, just arched a disdainful brow as though he was used to having his life threatened on a regular basis.
“I understand all that, Row,” she said. “But I don’t think I have a choice.”
“Then let’s go,” Rabin said, standing up and stalking towards Zarya, his burning gaze raking her from head to toe, making her stomach tighten. “The decision has been made and it’s really none of your business.”
Rabin aimed the comment at Row, who hesitated for another moment before he scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it over to Zarya. “As long as you’re sure.”
She reached out to accept it and answered, “As sure as I’ll ever be.”
Rabin followed Zarya out of the flat and into the bustling streets of Ishaan. No one had any reason to recognize him here, but he still felt exposed within these crowds. Being around too many people always made him anxious. He preferred quiet and solitude. The company of only those he trusted—though that circle was rather small.
Zarya walked ahead of him with purpose, clearly familiar with the city. She’d been here for months, and he couldn’t help but notice the way she seemed to belong here, like these sights and smells and sounds had been imprinted into her by her mother’s hand. He ran to catch up as she gave him a sidelong look.
“You’re sure about this?” she asked. “Row is right. I could just kill you if I get tired of you.”
Though she said it matter-of-factly, he detected the note of insincerity in her voice. She was fighting this with her mind, but her heart sought this ending, too.
“Zarya,” he snagged her arm and stopped her as the crowd surged around them. “What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m yours, body and soul? That I want to protect you and be there with you through all of this?”
She narrowed her eyes. “But you don’t fully agree with what I’m doing. You understand that this will only make my goals more possible.”
“I agree with your cause, Zarya. I’m only worried about the consequences.”
“I don’t care about the consequences,” she said, and it took every ounce of restraint to hold back the tirade he wanted to unleash. That she shouldn’t play with her life so casually. That he’d be ruined if anything happened to her.
“I know that.” He stepped in closer, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “And that’s why I love you, Spitfire. You are fearless and brave and so damn strong. So if you insist on doing this, then let me be there with you.” He meant that part. He did love that about her, but it also scared the shit out of him.
He watched her blink heavily, her lids sliding closed and then opening as he realized what he’d just said. Love . It had slipped out. This wasn’t how he’d planned to say it, but it had been there pressing against the surface, ready to burst through the thin veneer where he’d been keeping it and couldn’t contain it anymore.
There was no denying what he felt for her—what he’d felt from the moment he’d seen her in the dream forest all those months ago.
She cleared her throat and then spun around. “We should go.” She was walking faster now, her shoulders stiff.
He watched her for a moment and then once again jogged to catch up. He was such a fool. When had he ever let his emotions get the best of him like this? But being around Zarya called into question everything he’d ever known about himself.
They continued to wind through the streets that grew more crowded as the hour passed. Finally, Zarya consulted the paper Row had handed them and pointed down a narrow alley.
“I think it’s this way.”
Rabin peered down the shadowy path and nodded, his guard always up. “I’ll go first.”
“Fine, tough guy.” She waved him on and he heard her following as the cool shadows enveloped them. They passed several narrow doorways, some with iron numbers screwed into the surface and others with numbers inelegantly hacked into the wood.
“What’s the address?” he asked.
“1043. I think. I always forget how terrible Row’s handwriting is.” She squinted and held the paper further away. “Is that a Q ?”
They continued down the alley, counting the numbers they passed. After another minute, they stopped before a plain wooden door.
“This appears to be right,” she said, consulting the paper again and then knocked. They waited as someone shuffled on the other side, and the door popped open to reveal a stunning woman with deep brown skin and silver hair hanging down either side of her face. She appeared around Zarya’s age, but the depth in her eyes suggested she was positively ancient.
Mystics were their own brand of magical being. Very rare and very mysterious. Some believed they were a distant relation to Aazheri, but they denied the connection, claiming their magic was entirely unique.
“Yes?” she asked, her gaze open but cautious.
“We’re looking for a mystic,” Zarya said, and the woman cocked her head, studying them both.
“Why?”
Zarya gestured between them. “We need you toperform a Bandhan.”
The mystic blinked as if she needed a moment to absorb Zarya’s words.
“Well, then, come in,” she said. “I’m Thriti.”
After closing the door behind them, she crossed the room. She wore a long black dress embroidered with mirrors along the hem, covering her from chin to wrist. She folded her thin arms before she assessed them both from head to toe. Zarya looked at him, but he nodded. He didn’t sense anything amiss with the mystic, only a deep curiosity.
“You are masatara and paramadhar? Are you sure? You’ve entered the mind plane?” she asked.
They nodded. “We have,” Zarya said. “Many times.”
“Tell me about it.”
Rabin listened as Zarya described the dream forest.
When she was done, Thriti looked at Rabin. “And you’ve also been able to control it?”
“I have.” He bowed at the waist. The mystic radiated a sort of quiet power and authority he couldn’t help but respect.
“That is very difficult for paramadhar.”
“I had guidance from a powerful Aazheri.”
She dipped her chin as if accepting that answer.
“And you both understand what this means? The limitations and consequences of this bond?”
“We do,” he said solemnly.
“It’s been lifetimes since I performed my last Bandhan,” she said, studying them for another moment. “I almost believed that old magic had died out completely.”
“What do you think it means if it’s returned?” Zarya asked, and he tried not to let the hope in her voice bother him. She was still trying to find a way to convince herself this was right.
Thriti turned to her. “I can’t say for sure, but when magic disappears or returns, it’s always for a reason.”
Zarya nodded. He watched her swallow and blink rapidly as if trying to hold in her tears. He kept his eyes on her as Thriti moved to a workbench, where she started shifting various pots and pans and began mixing ingredients together.
Zarya’s gaze flicked to him, and he noted the glossy sheen in her eyes. What did those tears represent? She clung to so many layers of emotions and feelings that sometimes it was difficult to read her.
“Is there any chance we’re not paramadhar and masatara?” Zarya asked, turning back to Thriti, who continued working. Rabin tried to ignore the painful twist in his chest again.
The mystic stopped and looked back. “It certainly sounds like it. But the marks will only take effect if you are, regardless.”
“And if we aren’t?” This time there was a thread of nervousness in her voice.
“Then you’ll have a nice bit of decoration on your skin.”
“Oh,” Zarya said, and Rabin hoped that was disappointment he sensed this time.
“You’ll need to choose an object or a symbol to connect you,” she called over her shoulder as she ground something with a mortar and pestle. “It can be anything, but it’s best if it’s something personal.”
They both paused as their gazes locked. He watched something flicker behind her eyes.
“A dragon,” Zarya said a moment later. “What do you think?”
She gave him a raw look that rattled something loose in his chest before it slotted into the hole he carried beneath his ribs.
A dragon. Something that was important to them both.
“Just like the one you have?”
“Do you already have a marking?” Thriti asked, again looking over her shoulder.
He pulled up the side of his kurta to reveal the dragon tattooed on his skin.
She approached and touched it with cool fingers.
“This was done by a mystic with great skill.”
Rabin nodded. “It was encouraged by someone important to me. The magic helps with my dragon transformation.”
Thriti raised an eyebrow and held out a hand. “May I?”
Rabin nodded and pressed her fingers to the tattoo, her eyes fluttering closed as she explored the sinuous lines created by Abishek’s royal mystic. After a few seconds, she nodded.
“Yes, I feel it,” she said. “It’s very powerful.”
Thriti peered at him for perhaps a moment too long before she clapped her hands. “Well, the good news is that I can make use of this for the Bandhan, and you’ve just cut my job in half.”
She turned to look at Zarya. “Where would you like it?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really.”
She looked at Rabin as if seeking help, and he crossed the room, placing one hand on her waist and tugging down the sleeve of her dress before he kissed the back of her shoulder.
“How about here?” he asked against her skin, feeling her shiver under his touch.
“Sure,” she whispered. “That would work.”
“Then lie on the bench face down,” Thriti said, gesturing to the center of the room. “This will sting a bit. Take your arm out of your sleeve. I’ll need clear access to the area.”
She nodded and did as Thriti asked before lying on her stomach.
“You can grab that stool,” she then said to Rabin. “This will take a while.”
Rabin dragged it over and settled near Zarya’s head. She stared at him while Thriti worked, wincing at the needle’s first sharp prick.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” Then she reached towards him. “Take my hand. Please?”
His heart squeezed inside his chest as he held his hand out, and she slipped her warm fingers into his. He stared down at their linked fingers, thinking of everything that had brought them to this moment and that first mysterious call when he’d felt the pull to seek her out in his dreams.
He looked up to find her watching him, and something passed over her expression at that moment.
Something that felt like hope and the shining possibility of a future together. Like his entire world was changing and nothing would ever be the same again.