“So just start killing each other?” Her melodic, softly accented voice pitched toward hysteria. Whatever tricks she’d used when speaking to the assembly, none had been to modulate the musical rhythm of her speech. That rhythm was choppy now, made staccato by her mounting outrage. “Murder your twin? Your triplet? Was that her message? She might as well advocate brinksmanship among human nations that stockpile masses of weapons.”

“ ‘Survival of the fittest,’ she said.”

“And those who survived would be powerful and insane. Can you imagine the upheaval? For the most part, our kind blends with the human population. You have, haven’t you?”

“For years.”

“Do you think our relative anonymity would last if we started killing each other in the streets? Or bringing innocent humans into the fray?”

The jab of guilt made Tallis look away. He’d led the Asters to his niece’s home. Just for questioning, they’d claimed. Only, Tallis had watched in horror as her unassuming life had been shattered by the Asters’ men and a few of his warped Cage warriors—those Dragon Kings who fought to clear debts or, for some, to earn the right to conceive children. Dr. Heath Aster, son of the cartel’s patriarch, was the only person in the world to have discovered a method of circumventing the barrier that had hampered natural conception for a generation. Fighting for the survival of one’s bloodline had driven some Dragon Kings to the underground world of the Cages.

Then how had Nynn been able to conceive a natural-born Dragon King son?

Just for questioning.

He’d never wanted them to invade Nynn’s home and murder her human husband with a shotgun blast to the chest.

“It’s happened already,” he said. “I know of at least one human who’s died because of this increasing need to consolidate power.”

“You thought by discrediting me and keeping the Indranan split into factions, that power would never come to pass?”

“Yes.” He paused, glanced at a very grim-faced Chandrani, and decided to tell the truth. “And because I genuinely hated you. I wanted revenge for twenty years of having been manipulated toward a goal that held no more substance than my dreams.”

Kavya was a strong woman. Any other would have railed and cussed and blamed him—rightfully so, it seemed. Layers of guilt. Soon he would be buried beneath them, with only a life of berserker mindlessness to swirl free of the cloying dirt.

She was strong because she nodded. “You hated the wrong person.”

“Seems that way.”

“Are you crazy?”

“I don’t know. And believe me, twenty years is a long time to ask the same question.”

She drew back and did that odd thing with her fingers. Hands clasped at her stomach. Some particular adjustment to the alignment of her fingers. What followed was an expression of serenity and steady calm that Tallis envied. He coveted it more than he’d ever coveted anything.

What would it be like to go through life again with a sense of rightness and certainty? He’d known that feeling once, but he would never trust it again. Too much damage had been done when he’d relinquished free will in favor of blind faith.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” she said simply. “But I do think we need to go. A telepath must’ve driven you to these extremes. If she—or even he—has been feeding you these lies for two decades, then it must be someone with a great deal of power.” She paused. Her gaze darted all around, as if the trees might come alive. “Two decades . . . My brother killed our sister almost exactly twenty years ago.”

Tallis swallowed, his throat clogged with bile. In those dreams, he’d experienced some of the most erotic moments of his life, waking up in a flush of sweat and infuriatingly dissatisfied. Sometimes he’d wanted to stroke himself, with the image of golden flesh behind closed eyes. But the morning always brought the same nauseating doubts. Was he insane? Had he killed for no reason? Those questions cooled his ardor within moments of waking. More frustration. More mounting anger.

“I . . .”

He stopped himself. He clamped his lips shut and shook his head. Some shames should never be admitted. This was one. Hurt, revulsion, betrayal—he couldn’t separate his emotions. They welled up in him and tempted the animal. The berserker dwelling in his marrow, sinews, and the deepest recesses of his mind had known the truth as soon as Kavya, the real Kavya, had lain beneath his body.

“I hope that isn’t the case,” he finished, knowing his words wouldn’t gratify either of them. “But I can’t deny it’s a possibility.”

“Then we may have found ourselves a common enemy, Tallis of Pendray.” Kavya offered a smile. Too bad it was tinged with sadness and fear. “Until we have the answers you seek, nothing will come of my attempts to heal the wound Pashkah inflicted on my people. If he catches me, he will kill me. And if you insist on revealing the tricks played on you in dreamscape, he’ll kill you, too.”

—

They didn’t resume camp, although Kavya was weary. So weary. But fear of Pashkah’s retaliation propelled her onward. They trudged south. Although humans had built a highway that extended down from the Himalayas, following the deadly Rohtang Pass through the Valley of the Gods, past where her followers had encamped outside of Manali, the Beas River was Kavya’s guide. She knew these foothills like she knew the sound of her breath. What she didn’t know was whether Pashkah had remained in the Pir Panjal after killing Baile. Had he traveled, or had he stayed to learn these mountains as well as she did?

Had he ever followed her? Had he been there with her in Australia, where some of the Southerners had emigrated?

Not that it mattered. He could follow her anywhere now.

“I’ll need another Mask,” she said in the hours of early morning.

“Why?”

Tallis sounded strangely agitated. She was beginning to learn the expressivity of his voice, which was almost as animated as his face—if one paid attention. That she couldn’t read his mind meant he was the first person she’d needed to understand by sense alone.

“Because Pashkah knows what I look like now. Even worse, he’ll recognize this version of my mind. Night or day won’t matter.”

“He’ll follow what he knows of us,” Chandrani said. “His pursuit will be entirely psychic now.”

She had stopped speaking directly into Kavya’s mind—a deliberate means of including Tallis in their plans. That was new. Chandrani trusted no one but Kavya, and vice versa. Voicing her opinions to Tallis was smart, for now, if only to fold his canny strategies into theirs. He was skilled in the use of his Pendray weapons—seaxes and berserker rage, both. Beyond that, Kavya knew he was an unacceptable liability. How could anyone be so susceptible to suggestions pushed into his dreams?

But she knew the answer. The mind was a fragile place. With the right whisper from the right person, that whisper could become the truth.

“A Mask would disguise you,” Tallis said without question. “What does it do to who you are now? Or who you really were? I assume you’ve used them before.”

“Yes.”

“How often?”

“This will be my fifth.”

He stopped. His boots made a squelching sound on the damp rocks along the river. “Your fifth? Who the fuck are you, really?”

Kavya jerked. “I’m me.”

“Layered with four other versions of you.”

Why was he making this sound so wrong? It was the way of her world.

“With the right Mask,” she said, “a Northerner could live alongside a Southerner in the same neighborhood. No fighting. No fear. Only the most visible, like our politicians, need them more frequently.”

“And cult leaders.”

“You’re not one to judge. For centuries, we’ve needed Masquerades to save us from aggressive twins, and to keep the peace between the factions.” She huffed a frustrated breath. “Disguise is better than fighting and dying.”