“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 and 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.

That meant it could be nothing—a trick of the landscape as it slowly changed its eons-old shape.

It could be a Black Guard trained in tracking.

Or . . .

It was Tallis.

He appeared so suddenly that Kavya screamed in her mind. Chandrani stood and squared off against the infuriating Pendray. “Haven’t you caused enough havoc?” Chandrani asked. “I preferred your vow to leave and never come back.”