Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
Zarya, Rabin, and Yasen were hauled into the palace and forced to kneel on a hard marble floor in the center of a large circular room. Her vision blurred, making it difficult to focus on the colorful tiled mosaic of swirling patterns.
The room was bordered by rounded niches set with life-sized statues of stuffy-looking people in opulent clothing. The ceiling curved in a dome overhead, painted in gold. There was no other furniture or ornamentation, only a circle of queensguards in their crisp white sherwanis standing at various points around the perimeter.
The sounds of chaos seeped through the windows as an angry tear slipped from the corner of her eye and down her cheek.
The pained look on Miraan’s face had been unmistakable. After all these months of carefully avoiding the Madans and their attention, she’d flung herself right into their path and hadn’t saved a single person in the process. How could she ever live with the fact she’d let Vikas and his family down so spectacularly?
In the silence of the room, Miraan watched them with a severe expression. Her half-brother. He was even more handsome up close, with long dark lashes, a strong jaw covered with a trimmed beard, and a straight nose. With that confident posture, he was dashing in a navy sherwani and pants expertly tailored to his slender frame.
She dropped her head, unable to face the enormity of what she’d done. She tried to call on her magic, but it was dulled to almost nothing. An effect of the enchanted blue stone that surrounded them. Even if she could touch it, Miraan would stop her. He was powerful and had more experience. She’d been able to destroy the palace exterior, but that was only because she could still access her anchors while standing in the courtyard.
Sharp footsteps sounded from behind where they kneeled. From the corner of her eye, Zarya watched someone circle around them.
“What is your name?” asked a crisp voice, and Zarya peered up, looking over at Rabin and Yasen before directing her gaze to the speaker.
Zarya’s half-sister Dishani looked down at her, her arms folded over her chest. She wore a bright green sari decorated with silver beading, and her long hair was pulled into a thick braid, woven with pearls, that hung over her shoulder. Silver jhumka dangled from her ears, and more silver jewelry covered her throat and wrists. She dripped with authority and self-assurance.
“Me?” Zarya asked.
“Yes,” Dishani answered with the slightest flare of her nose.
Zarya understood they were in a delicate position, but nothing good would come of the Madans knowing too much about them. “Uh. Why?”
The princess arched a dark eyebrow, her gaze simmering with bottomless anger. “You will do as I command.”
Zarya hesitated. It wasn’t like her name would mean anything, but they all believed the prophecy, and it seemed imperative to hold on to any information she could. Dishani approached on sharp steps, her heels echoing around the room.
She grabbed Zarya’s chin and wrenched her head up. Too surprised to move, Zarya grunted as her half-sister squeezed, her sharp nails digging into her skin.
“Do not touch her,” Rabin snarled, but Dishani didn’t so much as blink at the menace in his tone. Four guards immediately peeled themselves from the wall and surrounded him, their spears pointed at his chest.
“Who are you?” Dishani asked Zarya, clearly not interested in or intimidated by Rabin. “Why are you the spitting image of our mother, and why have you stolen her necklace?”
Zarya inhaled a deep breath, understanding she had no choice.
“I didn’t steal anything. I’m…your half-sister.”
Dishani glared at Zarya, her grip tightening.
“Was that you destroying our palace?” she asked.
“Maybe?”
Something dark flickered across Dishani’s expression, her grip pinching to the point of pain. Zarya tried to jerk her head out of her sister’s hold, but Dishani only held on tighter.
“Let go of me,” she snapped.
“Why did you interrupt the execution?” she asked, ignoring Zarya’s demand. “Are you with the resistance?”
Her jaw hardened and she pulled again, finally wrenching herself from Dishani’s grasp. She worked her sore mouth, wishing she had use of her hands.
“Because you are monsters,” she said, her voice dropping to a low growl. “Vile, horrible, heartless monsters.”
A moment later, she also found herself with four silver spears aimed at her heart.
Dishani’s expression remained cold, clearly unfazed by the accusation. Instead, she asked, “What manner of magic was that?”
Zarya glared, willing steel into her posture. “Perhaps if you removed these cuffs, we could attempt a civilized discussion.”
“You refuse to answer my questions?” The princess tipped her head, assessing Zarya with a sweep. When Zarya continued to glare, she added, “Throw them in the dungeons. We’ll see if that loosens their tongues.”
“Dishani,” Miraan said. “Should we not treat her with a little more dignity? If she’s who she claims?—”
“She’s a liar,” Dishani answered with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“She has Mother’s necklace.”
“Anyone could have made a replica.”
“ Look at her.”
Dishani pressed her mouth together, her gaze sliding to Zarya.
“You just saw what she did . You know what she is,” he said.
Once again, the princess peered at Zarya, and she read so many things in the iron chill of her flat expression. The certainty she was now walking the thinnest of lines, balancing on a thread ready to snap. She’d attempted a futile rescue and, in the process, had permanently tipped the scales into something wild and unpredictable.
“Yes,” Dishani said a moment later. “I saw exactly what she did.”
Rabin didn’t bother fighting as they were hauled to their feet and dragged through the palace. Once they were in the dungeon, they could devise an escape. He’d seen the way the princess had looked at Zarya—like she wanted to cut out her heart with a dull, rusty knife—and they had to get out of here and as far away from Gi’ana as possible.
The trouble would be convincing Zarya of that.
Rabin walked with his shoulders straight and his hands behind his back down a red-tiled hallway with red-painted walls hung with portraits in thick golden frames. It took several minutes before they approached a wide stone archway flanked by armed soldiers.
Zarya walked ahead of him, a guard on either side, while Yasen marched at the back. He wished he could reach out to her. It was hard to believe it had only been a few hours since they’d gone to see Thriti and bound themselves to one another.
They were tossed into a cell, and Rabin immediately felt the rest of his already muted magic drain away. After the door slammed with a clank, three guards took up their position at the end of the hall, keeping watch. It wasn’t ideal, but at least they might converse without being overheard.
“What happened?” Zarya asked, flexing her fingers. “My magic was dulled before, but now it’s gone.”
“Enchanted bars,” Rabin said, placing a finger on the metal and watching as it shimmered faintly at his touch. “An added precaution.”
“Oh,” Zarya said, and he watched as the realization of their situation dawned on her. He wanted to strangle her for throwing herself into danger like that.
“Zee, what the fuck were you thinking?” Yasen asked, echoing Rabin’s thoughts as he peered at the tiny window at the top of the wall. He leaped up, grabbed the bars, and hoisted himself up to peer out.
“I was trying to save their lives.” There was a touch of petulance in her voice.
“Yeah,” he said, dropping back to the floor. “Great plan. This is exactly what we needed.”
She glared before her shoulders dropped and she rubbed her hands down her face. “Fine. It wasn’t my best moment.”
Yasen snorted and sank to the floor, letting his head smack against the wall.
“We have to get out of Gi’ana now,” Rabin said.
Zarya frowned. “I’m not going anywhere. We just found out how to”—she peered at the guards stationed down the hall and lowered her voice—“you know. Do the thing with the thing.” She stroked a line across her throat with her finger.
“Zarya, did you not see the look on your sister’s face?”
“Sure, she’s angry,” Zarya said. “But maybe we can talk things out.”
Rabin shook his head. “There will be no talking things out. She wants you dead.”
Zarya looked so taken aback he wanted to hug her and shake her at the same time. “Why would she want that?”
He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the farthest corner of their cell, joining Yasen, and spoke in a low voice so only they could hear.
“This prophecy has ruled this family for two centuries. They spent their lives existing in the shadow of a child that was never born.”
“Right…” Zarya said.
“Except she was born, and now she’s shown up to blow apart all of their lives.”
“I don’t want anything from them,” she protested, and Rabin shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter. Dishani is ambitious. Her coronation is finally around the corner. She is this close to getting the crown she’s coveted her entire life, and now you’re here to take it all away.”
She stared up at him while he waited for his message to sink in.
“The queens of Gi’ana have always been chosen by who is most powerful,” he added, hoping that would help her grasp the precariousness of her situation.
She slowly nodded. “And I have nightfire. And she knows exactly what she saw out there.”
“Yes. And it means you are the most powerful.”
“So, she thinks I want her crown, and nothing will convince her that isn’t true.”
She looked to Yasen for confirmation.
“She did seem to take a particularly strong dislike to you,” he said. “But that’s sort of normal when people first meet you.”
“Row explained all of this,” Rabin said gently, knowing her well enough to understand she’d tried to shove it down, refusing to believe it could be true.
She sighed and bit her bottom lip, obviously trying not to cry.
“I thought he was exaggerating. I thought…” She ran a hand down her face. “Gods, I’m so stupid.”
“You are not,” Rabin replied, placing a finger under her chin. “You are brave and selfless, and you were trying to do the noble thing.”
“Sometimes a little stupid,” Yasen said, holding his fingers close together. “But your heart’s in the right place.”
She huffed out a laugh through her tears. “I don’t want her crown. That’s the last thing I want.”
Rabin tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I know, but she won’t believe that.”
Her gaze met his, determination entering her expression. “So we have to get out of here.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Then for good measure, he added, “And probably kill her.”
Zarya sighed loudly and massaged the bridge of her nose.
“Perfect. Just… fucking perfect.”