Chandrani’s saber sliced across his shoulder. Only the thick padding of his leather coat kept his skin free of the blade’s cut. He spun and shrugged from beneath his pack. The seaxes became an extension of his limbs. He didn’t hesitate. Saber and seax clashed in a shriek of steel against steel. Chandrani ducked, parried, attacked anew.

“Respect Kavya’s wishes or this fight will continue.”

Sweat lined Tallis’s hairline and the back of his neck. His frown never eased. Although he held two weapons with the elegance of a man long trained in their use, he didn’t have Chandrani’s loyal determination, nor the ability to shoot spikes of pain down her spine, as she was doing to him. He hissed with each one. Her momentum edged them toward the outskirts of the small town. People had emerged from their trailers and shacks to watch.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Tallis called. “Not the way I could. You’ve seen it.”

“You’ll never get the chance.” Chandrani’s face was a picture of concentration. She was a warrior to the core. Wielding her saber and forcing telepathic jabs into her opponent’s brain was difficult to coordinate, but she did so with great skill. “The old man begs for a lobotomy. I’ll give you one whether you want it or not.”

“Didn’t you hear me? Do you want to be torn apart?”

Again he appeared on the verge of something other. The light in his eyes winked out. His features slackened, as if easing toward sleep. Kavya had seen that look when her brother’s blood had streaked Tallis’s mouth. How intent was he on keeping her from wearing another Mask? Would logic even matter if he skidded past a berserker’s invisible threshold? It would be like talking a wolf back from his latest kill.

“Stop!”

She couldn’t let them hurt each other. Chandrani, for all her determination and loyalty, would not survive this confrontation. Soon Tallis would slip beneath her ability to hurt him with telepathy. The animal was immune. Chandrani wasn’t immune to the fury Tallis could bring to bear.

Chandrani, he’s already proven that he can hurt you. And he did worse damage to Pashkah, of all people.

He’s bastard Pendray scum.

I know. Kavya blinked as Chandrani’s attack lessened by slow degrees. I won’t let him ruin our plans. Please. Too many have been lost. To lose you would break my heart.

Chandrani jumped back and lifted her saber. “I yield, you Reaper shit!”

Tallis seemed to flip a switch. The light in his eyes returned. He sheathed his seax. “You’re done being an idiot?”

“Not if you keep insulting me.”

“That’s all I’ve got,” he said, picking up the other seax and slipping it into the second scabbard. “Because you fight damn well. I’d never even try if we were human.”

Chandrani frowned and studied him. “Some new trick?”

With a tight smile, Tallis shook his head. “We Pendray aren’t up for tricks, remember? You gave me one helluva headache back in the valley.”

“And you the same to me.” She assessed them both. “Will you let Kavya do as she wishes?”

“Wishes and dreams and useless optimism,” he sneered. “You’re quite the pair. Even when faced with Pashkah’s rage, you’d climb back into the hills and start again.” What began as a glance toward Kavya intensified into a full-out stare. “If you wanted to settle down with a quiet pod, I’d encourage you to walk back into that shack and accept a new Mask. They’d never know you were the Sun. You’d never remember that you weren’t Kavya. And I’d take my fight to Pashkah, Dragon damn the consequences.”

Kavya swallowed past the dry lump in her throat. “I wouldn’t stop.”

“Then you need every bit of the brains you have left.” He stalked toward her. Rather than touch her with what so plainly remained of his ferocity, he swept tangles of hair back from her face. The light in his eyes was magnetic now—that undeniable ocean blue. “Don’t do it, Kavya.”

He held her face and rubbed a thumb across her lower lip.

“Don’t do it,” he said again.

Had he repeated it as a command, she might have kept up her resistance. Instead it sounded like an entreaty. He wasn’t begging, but it felt rather close.

Remember what the animal wants.

She saw it across every blindingly handsome feature. He was waiting as if his next breath depended on her reply. When had she been on the receiving end of such a plea? This man truly didn’t know her decision. She couldn’t read his mind, and he sure as hell couldn’t read hers. She’d never been at such a loss.

“We’ll find another way,” she said softly.

A soft exhalation rolled down his torso. “Then we need to go.”

“Not yet.” Kavya faced Nakul’s shack.

“What are you doing?”

“Honoring a vow.”

“You didn’t get the Mask. You don’t have to do that now.”

“I’m an idealist, but I know that my battle against Pashkah will not end peacefully. Nakul’s battle is at an end. He wants to surrender. Unless you have a Dragon-forged sword hidden under that coat, I’ll help him.”

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Tallis watched as Kavya emerged from the old man’s shack. Her face was grim, her shoulders stooped. He couldn’t imagine doing what she’d just done, but maybe that’s because he couldn’t imagine taking on that responsibility. Odd. He’d taken lives in service of a higher calling, but never because a man had begged for relief.

She trudged up a small hill that overlooked the hovel.

“Is it done?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” Kavya’s gorgeous sari was ripped and muddied. She was a fallen angel. “I stand by my commitments.”

“I’m seeing that.”

“I can never tell when you’re being serious or mocking me,” she said, sitting on the cool, rocky ground beside him.

“One-on-one verbal communication can’t be among your strong suits.”

She didn’t argue, which was an improvement in their ability to stand each other. Then again, perhaps her thoughts were still in that shack. “I don’t agree with what I did.”

“I didn’t think that.” He ducked his gaze toward where his fingers shredded a palm full of pine needles of their own accord. “Had I a sword, I would’ve taken off his head out of mercy. To know his body will live on for years is . . . harder to stomach.”

Dark hair streamed over her shoulders in messy clumps. It didn’t matter. She was herself, and he enjoyed looking at her profile. He’d come to doubt almost everything else.

“It was what he wanted. All he wanted. How many people can articulate that without doubt, and be granted their wish?”

“Few.” Once again he regarded the city where it sat nestled along the Beas. Chandrani had taken it upon herself to find a marketplace of some kind, no matter how rudimentary, to procure provisions. “Your guard. What will she use for trade?”

“I don’t know. It will be a testament to the value of her armor or the intimidation of her bearing.”

“She has both in excess,” he said dryly. “You know, I’d developed the impression that the Pir Panjal were the exclusive domain of the Indranan. The Sun Cult was all I sought. To realize that humans without gifts other than ingenuity and community can also weather these harsh climes is . . .”

“Humbling? Don’t say it. It doesn’t fit you.” She sighed, which sounded more weary than a woman should ever sound. “Are you one of those Dragon Kings who thinks us better than human beings?”

“I’ve known too many good people to class them all as inferior. But perhaps I’ve taken aspects of their culture for granted.”

“That’s quite a concession coming from you. Practically admitting a wrong.”

“It’s the best I can muster, goddess.” He grinned at her perturbed glare. He’d use the epithet over and over if it meant gathering more of her rare expressions. But he sobered. Maybe part of him remained in that shack, too. “Was it difficult? What you did to Nakul?”