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  He angled his head to claim better access to her mouth, then trailed hot, openmouthed kisses down her neck. He licked one of the parallel cuts, then the other. The heat of his tongue was replaced almost instantly by the cold whip of the wind. She shivered beneath that hot cold, hot cold. Every movement, whether feathering or forceful, said he would take her if she lay down on the ground.

  It would hurt.

  It would be madness.

  It would be marvelous.

  She moaned, but she couldn’t believe the sound came from her throat. He matched her primal desire with a growl of his own. He cupped the back of her head and returned to her mouth. The press of his lips and the welcome invasion of his tongue felt like he’d come home to her.

  No.

  She struggled. He wouldn’t let go. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed. He kissed her deeper. Panic replaced pleasure. She struggled, fought—

  Then bit his tongue.

  He reared back. “Dragon damn it, woman.”

  “I thought your kind never forced anyone. Besides, you’re not the only one who can bite.”

  He wiped his mouth and grinned. “So I’ve learned. Adding some variety to our real-life encounters?”

  “We’re back to you being a Pendray in the throes of some delusion. We’ve never met before this afternoon.”

  “Oh no,” he said, tightness replacing his brief humor. “Don’t play coy now, goddess.”

  “I rather liked when you used my real name. At least then I was a person, not some figment of a lost mind.”

  “You made me lose my mind. That’s why I’m here, you witch.”

  He stalked in a tight circle, then returned to face her. His skin was scented with blood. This man, for all his infuriating delusions, had saved her from Pashkah. That explained why she put up with his erratic moods and accusations. It couldn’t be because she hoped for more of what he’d done in the tent—binding her, tempting her. It couldn’t be because of moments like these, charged with expectation that balanced between ferocity and passion.

  Moments that left her guessing.

  She wanted all of it, but just a taste. She wanted it from a man who wouldn’t probe her thoughts while doing so, who couldn’t manipulate her while she took what she wanted from his body and he took what he wanted from hers.

  She’d remained untouched for just that reason. Indranan men could not be trusted.

  “Explain yourself,” she said. “Please. I might be able to alleviate whatever madness has led you to these extremes.”

  “There’s nothing you could say that I’d believe.”

  “Try me.”

  Nothing passed between their minds. Kavya could only read the grim shadows that accentuated his straight nose, his tightly pursed lips, and the hollows of his eyes.

  He bared his teeth before appearing to come to a decision. “You’re a manipulative seductress. For as long as I can remember, you’ve used dreams as a portal into my mind. You’ve directed my actions for decades, using every method possible—including visions of the Great Dragon so convincing that I’d swear I’ve looked our Creator in the eye. These kisses aren’t new to me, goddess. They’re as familiar as the pace of my feet on the ground. They’re a base attempt to divert me from the truth.”

  Despite her confusion and the impulse to defend herself, Kavya refrained. “What truth is that?”

  “You’re a liar and a user. Your plan for the future of our people is the worst sort of insult. Unite the Dragon Kings through selective murder? It’s a beautiful idea cloaked in blood. No more. I’m walking away. Everything between us ends tonight.”

  With a voice barely strong enough to be heard, she cast a parting sentence toward his back as he walked away. “If I can reach you in dream, Tallis, why can’t I read your mind?”

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  Tallis slept a fitful night on his own. The wooded terrain provided little protection from the frigid wind. He used supplies from his pack to fashion a makeshift shelter, which was mostly additional layers of clothing. His tent was gone. His reason for setting up that tent in the first place . . .

  He’d never see her again.

  Unless he slept.

  Nothing had ever scared him, except for the night when obeying the Sun’s first command meant leaving his family behind. He’d never see them again either. That was enough to strike hot jolts of fear into the bravest man. To be alone. No family. Not ever.

  He wasn’t scared of falling asleep, but he never looked forward to it. Months would pass, until he began to think he was free. Maybe . . . finally. But she haunted him like a peripheral shadow. Some night, when Tallis nodded off—too exhausted to wonder if she’d really left him for good—she would appear. The Sun. Kavya. She had a real name, a real face, a real body that he’d touched and kissed.

  A woman’s whose life he’d saved. A woman who’d wiped his face clean of blood.

  Tallis reclined on his pack, propped against an evergreen, protected from the worst of the wind whipping down the mountain.

  He’d walked away, just as he’d said he would. Now he would sleep alone in a forest that bordered the Beas River in the Valley of the Gods. Why did he feel dissatisfied, as if so much remained unresolved? Shouldn’t he experience some sense of closure? He hadn’t expected her to apologize, beg, justify, thank him—all in the span of twelve hours. In fact, he hadn’t imagined what she might do. She and the completion of his goal had been too nebulous. All he’d wanted was to find her. Discredit her somehow. And rid her from his dreams forever.

  Huddling into himself for warmth, with the sherpa-lined leather coat buttoned to his neck, he searched through memories and half-remembered visions. Some were so blatantly erotic that recalling them twined with the teeth-grinding, unspent passion he’d unleashed while kissing Kavya. He shifted on the lichen-laced ground, shutting his eyes.

  Her scent and her skin were indescribably soft, as was her touch when she’d cupped his bloodied cheeks. Those were real. Images of her naked body on display, her hair long and loose . . . Those were fake, planted by a seductress who’d led him along by his dick and his naiveté for too long.

  She blocked out every woman he’d known. None could compare to his fantasies.

  Now, the fantasy couldn’t compare to the woman he’d kissed.

  Why can’t I read your mind?

  There had to be a reason. She was lying when she said she couldn’t. Or she couldn’t access his mind when he was conscious. Or, or, or . . .

  He’d lived among the Indranan for months, all in anticipation of the previous day. He’d learned about their family pods—how children ran away as soon as their gifts manifested, escaping their twins, severing all ties with their biological families. Refugee Indranan grew up alone, slowly constructing new families, called pods, from genuine strangers. Strangers meant safety. They bonded over a shared need to protect against brothers and sisters intent on collecting the other halves of their fractured gift from the Dragon.

  Their ingrained techniques for self-preservation made Tallis’s exile from his family seem insignificant.

  Nothing he’d learned could explain what it meant with regard to Kavya.

  No, he thought angrily. She is the Sun.

  He was hungry and growing more furious with himself by the minute. He was rid of her. He’d walked away when staying with her would’ve meant protecting her, kissing her again. Or worse yet—believing her.

  Why can’t I read your mind?

  He’d thought her inability to be a quirk of luck, a useful aid in finding her. Now that question was the nucleus of a mystery he couldn’t solve.

  Fuck it.

  He’d lived as a human in England for long enough to know that was the perfect expression for what he felt. Angered resignation.

  The wind kept howling. His nose and ears were frozen. He had a terrible headache, from the cold and the aftereffects of the rage he’d indulged. There were consequences for dropping that deeply into
one’s black soul. Returning again was like using slippery vines to climb out of a mud-slicked pit. It always left the slimy feeling of having done something disgusting, as if he’d masturbated in public.

  The burden of the Pendray was to live with such power and a disgracefully low opinion of it. Where was the glory in succumbing to one’s gift when it meant tapping into the worst, basest impulses? Where was the contentment of a fight well won if an animal won it on one’s behalf?

  Tallis had bit Pashkah like the rabid dog he’d been accused of being. Years of practicing techniques in hand-to-hand combat and in the use of his seaxes—didn’t matter. Just teeth and fury.

  He saw her.

  Kavya.

  No . . .

  This was the Sun. She was the woman he’d come to expect in his dreams. This time, she appeared on the back of the Great Dragon without preamble. Normally the Dragon appeared when Tallis most needed convincing, as if the Sun brought their Father into the discussion to ensure cooperation. How could anyone deny her commanding beauty and the unearthly power of their Creator?

  Tallis held very still. Somewhere higher up on the plane of his consciousness, he knew he had fallen asleep. He didn’t want to wake. He wanted to know what the Sun had to say for herself, now that he’d left her to her own resources, stripped of authority, with two slices from his seax on her neck.

  He’d tasted those slight wounds, letting his tongue offer the apology he’d never voice.

  “You did well,” she said, as softly as the magical swish of the Dragon’s wide wings and long tail. “This was how I intended events to proceed.”

  She was swathed in the turquoise of the North, when she was usually clad in the same golden silk sari that Kavya had worn. The gold accentuated her warm coloring. By contrast, the vibrant blue made her features appear careworn. She was voluptuous, but not with Kavya’s innocent sexuality. The Sun’s innocence was petulant, like the greed of an insatiable two-year-old. Pleading, then coercing. Coercing, then pleading. He hadn’t been able to resist that potent cocktail.

  Now he could.

  “I didn’t do anything to please you,” he said. “Your cult is in ruins. You’ll only be welcomed into the most warlike pods in the North. Go take shelter with them and watch the last of your reputation rip in the wind.”

  Amber eyes glowed strong and true, as a corona of light large enough to obscure the Dragon gained strength at her back. Soon her features were cast in shadows. Her body was a silhouette behind layers of flowing blue. Tallis could only sense the Dragon’s watchful presence and smell the brimstone smoke of its exhalations.

  “It was time,” she said. “You killed a priest to unify your clan. That was how the Pendray could become most powerful and lasting.”

  “It worked. I know that. Other selective murders have had the same effect—bringing peace where none had been. But strengthening individual clans has never been your goal. ‘The Chasm isn’t fixed,’ you said. Unify the Dragon Kings.”

  “And I will.”

  “You will,” he said so forcefully that he sensed his own waking. For a moment, he indulged in the sunshine-warm light emanating from her body. He let her seduce him back to sleep.

  “I have work to do, Tallis. The Indranan must be their most powerful and lasting selves, too. That means ending the civil war.”

  “Peace and unity. That worked out great tonight.”

  The apparition flew closer. Hot breath scorched Tallis’s face. She had never guided the Dragon toward outright intimidation through violence, only ever through awed, calming authority.

  “My clan has been cleaving for too long,” she said. “North from South. Siblings from siblings. It’s time to stop. With all the finger-pointing to come, the factions will resume hostilities. Frightened brothers and sisters will have no choice but to arm themselves. It will be . . . survival of the fittest.” Her smile was blindingly beautiful, but unnaturally visible in the shadows cast by the corona. “Those left standing will be few, but powerful enough to rival any of the Five Clans. The strong will ensure that the unification of the Dragon Kings becomes fact.”

  Tallis sat up. He ached from lying on the unforgiving ground. He could still see the Sun and her magnificent mount, so he was still sleeping. He’d expected a more subtle form of manipulation, where the worst possibility would be if he gave in. When he gave in. He wanted Kavya too much to refuse what her dream self might offer. This apparition, though, didn’t evoke any sense of lust. She’d never spoken to him with such candor or fervor.

  Something about this was wrong. Very wrong.

  “How would the strong unify the clans?” he asked, his suspicion undeniable.

  “That isn’t for a good soldier to ask. But it was good of you to walk away. Pashkah and I are grateful for your help, dear Tallis.” She reached down to touch his hair, as if petting the fur back from a dog’s eyes.

  Wrong. So wrong.

  His mind was still kicking. Somewhere. He was thankful for it.

  As with dreams, when transitions never made sense, the Dragon had disappeared. The Sun was standing before his kneeling form. Tallis took her hand in his and held her palm flush to his cheek. It was hot. Not at all like Kavya’s delicate assurance. “You mourn them, don’t you? North and South. Those who suffered today.”

  The hand didn’t flinch. He would’ve felt the smallest movement, no matter how involuntary. “We did what was necessary. What has been cleaved all these years will be united. Fully blessed.”

  “We,” he said slowly. “You and me. You and Pashkah. You and the whole of the Indranan. Or just . . . you?”

  The Sun frowned. He’d only seen that expression when she was upset with his reluctance. The corona of light dimmed. Swirls of charcoal and dull pewter invaded the sunny yellow brightness. “You doubt when there is no need. Your tasks are complete. I’ll never see you again, but I’m thankful. And so will be the entirety of the Dragon Kings.”

  He tried to grip her fingers, but they slipped away like trying to hold a cloud. “You mourn them.”

  The Sun blew him a kiss and smiled, even more childlike now, as if he’d been blessed by a little girl who could never be blamed for anything.

  “Why wouldn’t I? Good-bye, Tallis.”

  Tallis jerked away, eyes wide and chest thumping. The dream was gone, but the unnerving truth lingered.

  Kavya and the Sun were not the same woman.

  —

  Kavya and Chandrani huddled behind a trio of evergreen trunks so entwined that they formed a natural shelter. Chandrani had shed what she could of the padded clothing beneath her armor, giving it to Kavya to stave off the worst of the cold.

  But Kavya couldn’t sleep.

  That old fear had returned, that if she slept, she wouldn’t wake up as herself.

  I won’t let that happen, Chandrani said without words.

  Their communication link was whole again, as was the ability to use each other’s senses. But Chandrani’s powers of attack remained pell-mell and unreliable. Whatever she might accomplish for their defense would be done instead with body and skill. What sort of life had Tallis lived that he knew with such certainty how to incapacitate an Indranan?

  Kavya stared into the gentle black as a late sliver of moon rose above the tallest peak in the east. The silver sheen reflected off the river’s wide waters. She stared as if watching a flame. Surely Pashkah had recruited a Tracker for his army. Kavya and Chandrani may as well be pursued by bloodhounds. They weren’t safe at night, and she couldn’t think of a safe place to go come dawn.

  I can’t sleep, she said. You know that.

  I know. You’ve never been very good at letting go.

  A moment of levity made Kavya smile at her friend. Can you blame me?

  The Indranan hadn’t been their only enemies when growing up in Delhi and Mumbai. Some humans would’ve liked finding defenseless young girls on the cusp of womanhood. She and Chandrani had hidden each other with psychic distortion, and they had stayed small a
nd quiet. Only telepathy. Had anyone found them, Kavya harbored no doubt that Chandrani would’ve died trying to protect her. Her sense of debt to Kavya was infinite.

  I’m afraid of Pashkah, she told Chandrani. After tucking her slippered feet more securely beneath her body, she adjusted the armor’s padding. Her legs would be numb from lack of circulation, but at least they wouldn’t be numb because of frostbite. And I’m afraid of what that man Tallis said. What if I really have been contacting him in dream?

  Chandrani’s outrage was instantaneous. How? You’d have known.

  Dreams are dreams. And there’s no telling what exists inside our minds. So many Masks. So many days where time is missing. Can we really say that our thoughts are our own? Or our memories? Some Masquerade could’ve planted malevolent intentions when he installed a Mask. I don’t know why, or why Tallis in particular, but it’s possible. We’ve known people who’ve layered too many disguises on top of their true personalities.

  As mad as the twice-cursed, Chandrani replied with a nod.

  Kavya shivered and tried to keep her jaw steady. Her teeth hadn’t stopped chattering since those moments surrounding Tallis’s kiss. That means what he said is possible.

  Even if you can’t read his mind?

  Can you? Kavya’s frustration surged back in force.

  No. I could hurt him, but I couldn’t find a single thought. Chandrani shifted. Her metal-lined armor didn’t make much noise, but it sounded terribly loud in the nighttime stillness. Kavya, you need to set aside a puzzle you can’t solve tonight. Rest.

  Impossible.

  Images of blood and ruined flesh—cleanly cleaved heads and a chunk of skin ripped from her brother’s arm—filled her mind. A sob choked up from her chest, but her mind was awash with crying that wouldn’t stop. “We were so close,” she whispered aloud. “So many people trusted me. I trusted that everyone would welcome the truce. But Pashkah . . . Dragon damn him.”

  A noise behind the entwined trio of trees stilled them both. Kavya held her breath and clenched her teeth. She couldn’t hear beyond the noise in her ears and the squeak of wind swirling through the boughs. If it was an animal, she wouldn’t be able to identify it. She could only read the thoughts of creatures possessing a higher consciousness, which fit with what Tallis had explained regarding how he’d resisted Pashkah’s attack. If it was a human or a Dragon King, she should’ve known minutes ago. Maybe longer.