Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
After the proposal, they’d been too tired to stay awake any longer. Rabin wrapped her in his arms, and she drifted off to sleep in the honeyed warmth of knowing this was the right choice.
Yes, they’d had their ups and downs, but they were beyond the mistakes either of them had made. What they had was so much bigger than that.
Zarya awoke early the next morning, knowing the first of today’s vanshaj would be arriving soon. It was still dark, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon. She let Rabin sleep a bit longer. He looked too peaceful to wake up. He’d start his busy day soon enough.
She pulled on a clean salwar kameez of green cotton and brushed her hair into a high ponytail before scrubbing her face and her teeth. Dark circles hung under her eyes and her skin was pale from all the long hours they’d been working. She tapped her cheeks, hoping to generate some color, but what she needed was a quiet room and a week of uninterrupted sleep. Maybe she’d get a chance if they were successful the day after tomorrow.
She headed down the stairs to find Yasen already at the kitchen island with his elbows on the surface and a mug between his hands as he stared into nothing. His silver hair had been brushed and neatly braided, and he wore a grey kurta that clung to the swell of his biceps.
She leaned in the doorway and grinned, waiting for him to notice her.
After a moment, he looked over and frowned.
“Good morning,” she said.
He looked away and took a sip from his mug. “If you think you’ll embarrass me, you’re about to be very disappointed.”
She laughed and grabbed the pot of coffee on the counter, pouring herself a cup and sliding into the seat next to him. They sipped in companionable silence until Zarya couldn’t take it anymore.
“Rabin said he’s caught you twice already.”
Yasen took another sip. “Apparently, Rabin can keep a secret better than you.”
Zarya huffed and smacked her mug on the counter. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. He’s my brother!”
“Half-brother,” he answered with an arch of his brow. “And you didn’t tell me about Rabin at first, either.”
He gave her a pointed look, and she huffed.
“Fine. Keep your secrets.”
They fell into silence again as Zarya blew on the top of her coffee, even though it wasn’t very hot, and drank a long sip. Her leg bounced up and down on the rung of her stool as Yasen peered over and let out a sigh.
“Fine. Ask what you want. I can tell you’re about to explode.”
“Ahhhh!” Zarya said, placing down the mug and grabbing him by the arm. “Are you in love? I saw the looks you were giving each other. How did it happen? Is it serious?”
Yasen held up his hand. “Geez. Slow down.”
Zarya leaned forward, resting her elbows on the surface and smiling up at him as he rolled his eyes.
“It’s not serious,” he said. “I don’t do serious. I’m a soldier.”
Her mouth formed into a pout. “You’re not a soldier anymore, technically.”
He shook his head. “It’s the only thing I know how to do.”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right man yet?”
Yasen pushed out a slow breath. “No. Miraan is nice, but don’t foist your romantic fantasies on me. I’m just here for the hot sex.”
Zarya wrinkled her nose. “Do I want to hear about my brother having sex?”
“Half-brother.”
“He’s more like a friend, though, I suppose.”
Yasen gave her a pointed look. “Zee. Don’t make more of this than it is. We’re just having fun. He’s a prince. It could never work.”
She sat up and did her best to keep her bottom lip in check. “Fine. Do you like him, though?”
Yasen gave her a rueful smile. “Yeah, I like him. Despite the rest of that family, he seems like a good guy.”
Zarya squealed and clapped her hands.
“Zee,” Yasen warned.
She held her hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying anything. I’m just glad you found someone niceto spend time with.”
Yasen rolled his eyes again as he poured himself another coffee.
“What about you and the dragon?” he asked. “You two seem pretty cozy lately. Everything okay since you completed the Bandhan?”
She nodded. “No regrets. We’ve worked through our issues, and I understand why he did what he did. I can trust him. Right?”
He nodded. “I think you can. He made a bad call, but the way he looks at you…that’s all real. Even I can see that.”
She couldn’t help the little flip in her heart at those words. It was real. “Good. Because we’re getting married today.”
Yasen spit out his coffee. “What?”
She shrugged and winced. “We thought we’d make things official. We’re in this weird middle place of being important to one another but having no way to describe the significance of our relationship.”
“So? You don’t get married because of that!”
She knew he was right. It was fast. But sometimes your heart just knew the true course, and she was trusting her instincts. “This mystical, destined purpose already connects us. Is marriage really so illogical? We’re literally bound to one another.”
Yasen placed his mug on the counter with a soft clink. “I…suppose not.”
“I want us to be more than just ‘destined’ partners. He’s more to me than that. And the Bandhan technically makes him my ‘servant,’ and that doesn’t make sense, either. He’s my equal.”
“I suppose I get that,” Yasen said. “You two don’t really have a normal relationship.” He scanned her up and down before searching her face. “And you do seem a lot happier lately. Even with all of this going on, it’s obvious he’s good for you.”
She nodded. “I think so, too.”
He gave a wry shake of his head. “And man, is he different around you.”
“Good, different?”
“Very good,” he answered.
“Thanks, Yas.”
“So, when are we doing this?”
“We thought we’d find a cleric to marry us alone later today. Do you think it would be okay to sneak away for a few hours? I know the others need us?—”
Yasen slapped his hand on the counter, interrupting her.
“Yes, you’re entitled to take a few hours off, and absolutely not. There is no way my second-best friend is getting married without me.”
In the end, both Yasen and Miraan insisted on tagging along.
When Vikas found out what was happening, he demanded they all take the night off and enjoy themselves. He’d hold down the operation with Ajay, who warmly hugged Zarya despite his obvious distaste for Rabin. Maybe they’d come around to one another eventually.
Her half-brother insisted she couldn’t get married without at least one blood relation present, and when it was decided that Yasen and Miraan were joining, Zarya knew she couldn’t leave Row out.
She took him aside to explain when he arrived at the manor that morning.
“Zarya,” Row said, his voice low with that chastising parental tone she was so familiar with.
“I know,” she interrupted. “I already know all the things you’ll say. And I know it seems reckless and fast and definitely a bit impulsive, but that’s only because you’re on the outside looking in.
“I believe him when he said he never meant to hurt me, and he loves me, and I love him.”
He clasped his hands. “Yes, all of those things are true, but I feel I should mention Abishek would not support this.”
“What do you mean? How did you know that?”
“I told you once that he felt strongly about Aazheri mating with other magical species due to the nullifying effects of the magic in their offspring. He believes it affects the purity of Aazheri power.”
Zarya recalled the conversation they’d had in Dharati after Row’s return when she’d been asking questions about her father.
“He forbade Rabin from having a romantic relationship with me,” she confessed. “But that was due to the paramadhar bond.”
Row considered that. “Perhaps it was down to both reasons. And you’re choosing to defy him?”
“I owe him nothing. This is my life and all of that is nonsense. Should we ever decide to have children, we’ll deal with that when it comes. As for Rabin, that is his choice to make.”
They talked for a while longer as Row listed all his objections, and Zarya offered her counterarguments. In the end, she simply said, “I guess you don’t have to like it, but I hope you will accept it. But I really would love for you to be there. It wouldn’t feel right to experience such a huge thing in my life without you at my side. You’re the only parent I’ve ever known, and if I don’t say it enough, I love you, Row. I’m so grateful for you.”
When she fell silent, she watched as Row blinked several times, a myriad of emotions she could only guess at passing over his expression.
He sighed and then leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “When you were little, you were already so headstrong. I remember when you were about eight or nine, I told you starflowers would only bloom at night, and you insisted that couldn’t be true. So you set up a camp for days next to those damn flowers, trying to prove me wrong.”
He chuckled at the memory as his soft gaze found hers.
“You were right,” he said. “They did bloom during the day sometimes.”
Zarya smiled, remembering her excitement, jumping up and running back to the cottage to claim she’d known it all along.
“And maybe you’re right about this, too.”
She reached out a hand and squeezed his. “Will you come?”
He covered her hand with his. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, my girl.”
She threw her arms around his neck as they hugged tightly. “I’m sorry I was so horrible to you,” she said softly as he patted the back of her head.
“All is forgiven,” he said. “What kind of father would I be if I didn’t understand your need to learn who you were while perhaps being a little hard on the people who loved you the most? It’s simply the natural order of things.”
She pulled away. “I’m so lucky that my mother chose you to raise me.”
He gave her a soft smile and then pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m the lucky one, Zarya. I never expected to be a father, but you’ve brought me more joy than you can possibly understand.”
Once they were done talking, Zarya returned to her flat to raid her closet for something suitable to wear. She didn’t have anything that was right for a wedding, and she spared only a passing second of regret that she wouldn’t get a stunning custom-made lehenga and all the usual fanfare with hundreds of people and mountains of food and hours of dancing.
Though she’d daydreamed about a wedding like that, she also understood it didn’t suit this moment. She wanted and needed to marry Rabin now and this was enough. So she opted for a dressier lehenga she’d purchased when they’d first arrived.
It was elegantly simple in a soft dusty pink, beaded with silver. She then braided her hair and made up for the dress by going all out on her makeup with thick lines of kohl, deep pink lips, and long lashes.
As she admired the results in the mirror, she noticed Yasen leaning with his arms crossed in the doorway and one ankle over the other.
“You look nice,” he said, and she grinned. Rabin, Row, and Miraan had all gone ahead to meet with the cleric who would perform the ceremony while she and Yasen would follow behind.
She spun around and then dropped into a curtsy. “You think he’ll like it?”
“He’d be a fool otherwise,” he answered. “But he’s obsessed with you. You have nothing to worry about.”
Zarya walked over and stared at Yasen before placing a hand on his forearm. “Thank you for everything,” she said. “I kind of dragged you to Ishaan with me, and I’ve been so grateful to have you at my side during all of this.”
He smiled. “You didn’t drag me anywhere, Zee. I wanted to come. Leaving Dharati was for me, too.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “You deserve the world.”
They paused for a beat, and she wondered if she caught the barest hint of tears lining his eyes. He blinked and shook his head. “Quit getting sappy on me, Swamp Girl. Let’s go or you’ll be late for your wedding.”
They both donned scarves to conceal their identities, and Yasen took her hand before winding their way through Ishaan’s alleys. They reached a squat, nondescript building and entered through the back entrance.
Zarya and Yasen found a room that was little more than a box with two small windows at one end, a white marble floor, and painted white walls. There were no flowers and no rings and no fancy food. Row, Miraan, and Rabin all turned at the sound of their entrance, and Zarya couldn’t take her eyes off the man who would soon become hers forever.
He wore a black sherwani borrowed from Miraan embroidered with deep purple thread, and his dark hair fell in midnight waves around his shoulders. Her breath stuck in her chest as she stared at him, and his gaze roamed over her from head to toe.
He held out his hand as her stomach did a little flip and her heart squeezed in her chest. Any lingering reservations or doubts she had—this was too fast, this was too reckless—evaporated in that moment. She glided towards him, taking his hand as he pulled her in close and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Ready, Spitfire?” he asked.
“Ready,” she whispered.
“You are breathtaking.” He leaned down and kissed her. “I love you. I will protect you until the end of our days.”
“I love you, too,” she replied. “Thank you for coming into my life.”
Then they turned to the cleric, who performed a quick ceremony without any bells or whistles. Maybe this made more sense. Their relationship was already extraordinary enough on its own.
When it was done, they turned to face their friends and family. Yasen and Row gave her extra-long hugs, and she did her best not to sob all over them.
Miraan had snuck in a case of very expensive sparkling wine, which they popped to the sound of cheers and congratulations as they drank straight from the bottles. They all snickered when Yasen dribbled some down his front, but he had the last laugh when he dumped half a bottle on Miraan.
The normally stoic prince burst into raucous laughter before they shared a sticky, wet kiss and the cleric threw them out, grumbling under his breath about finding a mop. Miraan assured him he’d pay for the trouble, but the cleric waved them off.
“Have a lovely life,” he said to Zarya and Rabin, pressing his hands at his heart and dipping his head.
“We plan to,” Zarya answered before grinning at Rabin. He pressed a finger to her jaw, and they kissed one more time before donning their scarves and cloaks and spilling into the streets where the sun had set.
Ishaan was alive with activity as Miraan guided them past bustling taverns and busy cafes and up the sweeping steps of the city’s grandest hotel. Knowing a prince certainly had its advantages because he’d booked them a private room inside its lavish restaurant, where they were served overflowing courses of lamb biryani, dal bukhara, and bursting bites of litti chokha.
They toasted and drank and ate until they were stuffed.
From across the table, Zarya watched Yasen and Miraan talking, their heads bent close. As if sensing her gaze, Yasen looked over and Zarya smiled. He might claim things were casual with the prince, but she was sure there was something more. Yasen winked and held up his glass, and she got misty-eyed thinking about how much she loved him.
Miraan pushed away from the table and announced, “I’ve also secured you a room for the night. You won’t have time for a honeymoon yet, but I hope this helps make up for it.”
He held out a golden key and Zarya reached out to accept it. “Miraan, this is too much.”
He waved her off. “It’s not nearly enough. I’m not sure what the future holds for any of us, but I’d like to know you better if we get that chance.”
“I’d like that too,” she whispered, clutching the key to her chest.
“Now get out of here.” He picked up his wine, clearly feeling a bit looser after downing several glasses. “We might all die tomorrow, so enjoy tonight to the fullest!”
They all cheered to that morbid reminder, but she smiled anyway, feeling like her heart would burst.
It hadn’t been the wedding she’d imagined, but it was actually so much better. It had been intimate and warm and full of the most important people in her life.
Then everyone shooed Zarya and Rabin off before they made their way upstairs to discover that not only had Miraan secured them a room, it was the best one in the entire hotel.
Sprawling over the top floor, it could have fit at least five of Zarya and Yasen’s whole flat. Along the far wall, a set of wide arches opened to the outside, where they could see miles of forest and mountains in the distance. In the center of the room was a massive circular bed covered with gold sheets and pillows, along with ornately carved tables, divans, and the biggest marble bathroom Zarya had ever seen.
Miraan had arranged for more sparkling wine, and they poured two glasses before they stood on the balcony, enjoying the soft evening breeze.
“Thank you for marrying me,” Rabin said before he took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”
“I love you,” she said softly, watching the moonlight reflecting in his eyes and off the arch of his cheekbones.
They kissed slowly and deeply, languishing in the sensation and the tastes and smells of each other. He took the glass out of her hand and placed it on the table before he wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her towards him.
“No more wine?”
“Have as much as you want,” he said with a smirk as his hand slid down and cupped her ass. “But first, I want to spread you out on that bed and make love to my wife.”
She grinned up at him. “Deal.”