But Tallis of Pendray . . .

The Dragon-damned Heretic. She hated him without reservation.

She helped Chandrani stand, although the woman outweighed her by a good forty pounds of muscle. “I’m sorry,” the woman said, her voice rife with pain. “I heard your shout, but your mind flickered in and out. I couldn’t focus to find you. Then . . . then there was chaos.”

“The fault was mine. I was dazed. Couldn’t concentrate after I called for you.”

Chandrani offered a watery smile. She only smiled for Kavya, which represented their unshakable bond. “I wouldn’t be able to concentrate in the company of that lonayíp bastard either.”

“I still need you,” Kavya whispered, her face flushed. “Please. For me. We need to escape.”

Chandrani steadied herself with gratifying efficiency. No one in Asia was a better, more sacrificing warrior. Her honor and dedication had kept Kavya alive far longer than she’d expected as a scared, homeless twelve-year-old girl.

Kavya glared once more at Tallis before turning toward the altar.

Tallis followed. She’d expected his presence, but he seemed unusually willing to follow. Not grab and demand. He was connected to her in ways that he resented. What was it about his past that had produced such a strange combination of bitterness and . . . protectiveness? Even affection? An untenable sense of his innate aura was the closest she could get to reading his mind.

Despite the physical bullying, she’d never gotten the impression that he aimed to do her harm. When he called her “goddess,” his tone was sarcastic and acidic, but she’d heard something near to reverence. Years of hearing it from her followers meant she recognized unconscious awe. He didn’t realize how much he gave away by insulting her with that particular word.

She struggled through the crowd, dodging frantic hands that beseeched her for help—or held her back—but she wore a tight smile. Here she’d thought herself incapable, or more arrogantly, above using her physical senses. Tallis was right that she’d become complacent.

What had she expected to happen? That Pashkah would simply let her go? The properties of a psychic Mask—many Masks, in her case—only extended so far. She could’ve hidden forever had she lived an unassuming life, especially had she emigrated. But because Dragon Kings could no longer bear children, she would’ve lived day to day without purpose. A useless hermit.

Anger swelled in her chest, fighting for a place where her aching breath huffed. Pashkah would not take this from her, and neither would Tallis of Pendray. Whatever she needed to do to escape, she would do. She was the only person able to reveal Pashkah’s treachery and reunite her people.

Raghupati was dead. Omanand was dead. She mourned the loss of two men willing to make a difference, standing beside her and perhaps helping to bear a few of her decades-old burdens.

Thankfully, the Black Guard had scattered into the crowd, leaving the altar a solitary heap of rock.

Tallis grabbed her arm. “Let me go first.”

“By all means.”

The deepening shadows of evening meant his features were harder to discern. The color was gone. She’d liked his hair, tipped with a silvery sheen, and she’d liked his deep blue eyes. Too bad. She was stuck with a deranged Pendray whose looks were a hindrance to her ability to concentrate.

A distracted Indranan courted death by a ready sibling. And so the cycle of death and madness continued.

Creeping through the archway, Tallis kept his back to the altar and circled to the rear. His stealth was impressive. He was in tune with himself and the vagaries of the physical world—typical of the Pendray, as was his stubborn lack of sense. That came standard with their kind.

“What am I looking for?” he whispered over his shoulder.

She caught Chandrani’s arm as the larger woman swayed, still clutching her head. “A span of rock with flecks of copper,” Kavya said. “It’s not sandstone or granite. It conceals a tunnel for escape.”

“I knew you weren’t that naive.”

“Perhaps I was.” She glanced back to where the Guardsmen were rounding up women. More and more men had been pushed to the eastern side of the valley, contained by guards holding Dragon-forged swords. That gold-touched gleam on otherwise ordinary steel was unmistakable. They wouldn’t be able to fight back, or even flee. Only the Dragon knew their fate. “I had been hoping for unity, not planning for worst-case scenarios.”

“The arrival of a twice-blessed sibling is certainly that.”

“Twice-cursed.”

“Do your clan words matter to me?”

Kavya had underestimated the extent of Pendray rage lurking beneath his cool surface. He radiated the tension of a gale-force blizzard wind. He was different in that he held back what other members of his clan basked in using at any opportunity. At least, that’s how the Pendray were described in rumor and disdainful talk.

“If he kills me, he’ll lose connection to reality. His mind will be all that matters. He’ll live there and refashion the world to match what he sees. That could mean anything.” She nodded toward where bodies lay motionless on the altar. Blood had started to congeal around her fallen allies. “I doubt it will be peaceful.”

“Turns out you won’t need me to discredit you. The Sun led her people to slaughter, with your brother as the heavy.”

“You know nothing,” Chandrani said with unflinching vehemence. Despite her bleeding temple, she pushed Kavya forward and took up the rear defense. She held her saber with practiced steadiness.

The bubble of relative safety behind the altar muffled sound. Rock protected Kavya from the audible nightmare her people were enduring, but nothing buffered the suffering they shouted in silent, psychic screams. Her stomach was a solid cramp of tissue that wouldn’t loosen. Nothing could undo this damage, even if she restored some sense of unity.

How confident she’d been that afternoon.

Too confident. Too arrogant. She’d created a place of spiritual safety that belied actual safety. Northerners and Southerners had put aside their differences. There in the valley, when had any needed to use telepathic attacks? Never. They’d been taken by surprise, and they were fighting back, but with two deadly sweeps of his sword, Pashkah had proven all of them to be woefully complacent.

“There,” she said. “That block.”

Tallis sheathed his seax and dropped his pack. He squatted before the boulder that concealed the exit and pushed.

“Help him or cripple him?” Chandrani asked. “I can do either. He didn’t hit me that hard.”

“Half your face is covered in blood. He knew just where to hit you, didn’t he? Can you read my thoughts?

Chandrani shook her head, appearing ashamed as if she were to blame.

Kavya touched her friend’s cheek—the only skin left exposed by the riveted armor. “Help him. We’ll deal with him later.”

“I won’t let him hurt you.” Chandrani’s expression remained impassive, but the conviction in her voice was unmistakable. She never lied. She never exaggerated. Her only failing was in thinking she could do everything herself.

They were very alike in that sense.

“Now isn’t the time to discuss my fate,” Tallis ground out, with his shoulder to the copper-flecked stone. It was half his size. “This was your escape? How did you expect to move this?”

Chandrani pushed Tallis aside. She touched a hidden place along the valley wall. The boulder opened like a door on a hinge. “Brains over brawn, Pendray.”

“Too bad for you, sister,” came that dreaded ghost-soft voice. Pashkah had intoned for the crowd, but delivered his sincerest threats in whispers.

He stood flanked by two members of the Black Guard. Each held a terror-stricken young woman, while Pashkah was armed with the same blood-drenched sword he’d used to commit public murder. “Brains would’ve been useful today, Kavya. Now it’s time to see what sort of deity you’ve really become. Come with me or these young women become my next victims.”