“Make me feel safe enough to sleep beside you.”

Where in the world had that come from?

Tallis glanced toward her, eyes aglow with hot blue fire. “Safe. With me. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fine.” She returned her attention to the window and tried to ignore the creaking protests the plane made—and the sudden frost in Tallis’s bearing. “Just stick with calling me by my name. Not goddess. I’ll consider that miracle enough.”

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

Perhaps the Dragon wasn’t angry at them after all. Maybe he just wanted two troublemakers the hell out of the Himalayas. Fine with Tallis.

Through some combination of skill, luck, and complete idiocy, they belly flopped the Cessna in a cornfield. The stark Pir Panjal peaks had given way to less formidable hilly terrain, as well as grasslands, lakes, and abundant population centers. Kavya had navigated along the national highways until final sputters of fuel, as well as a suspiciously freaky sound coming from the port propeller, meant her goal of a landing at the Jaipur International Airport was too ambitious.

That the plane’s nose hadn’t dug a trench was a minor miracle.

As it was, Tallis’s door was jammed into the dirt. The plane was tipped sideways, with the wing on his side snapped back like a crippled bird. The temperature was sweltering and humid. Apparently they’d dropped into hell as a nod to the fate they’d courted. He shed his coat and handed it to Kavya, who padded the door frame where a jagged piece of metal waited to slice her palm. She crawled the upward angle out her door, then turned to take the pack and seaxes from Tallis. Their fingers touched. Hers were still shaking, after nearly five hours in the air. Eyes assessing each other, they must’ve made a strange tableau in the middle of that field.

Tallis blinked and Kavya turned away. After climbing out, feet back on solid ground, he leaned hard against the half-wrecked cockpit. “Any head cases coming after us?” he asked, angling his question toward where she’d taken a seat on his pack.

“No. Coast is clear. Plenty of Indranan in Jaipur, maybe ten kilometers from here. But we’ll blend in better.”

“Good.” He stood back from the plane and gave it a solid looking over. “I’m quite proud of that, you know.”

“Crashing?”

“Landing. A very creative landing.” He walked around to the ruined port side. The wing was like a hangnail—a clinging piece of something that had once been part of the whole. One of the propellers was twisted into the stripes of a candy cane. No wonder it had grated so badly. “And a lucky landing at that,” he said to himself.

“Do I want to take a look?”

Tallis emerged from around the rear of the plane and smiled. “Nope.”

“Then I won’t.”

“You’ll lose that green tinge any minute now and realize that extreme mountain aviation is a completely shite hobby. Tell me this was the one and only time you planned on giving it a go.”

“One and only time.” She stood, strapped on the pack, and arched her neck to a particularly defiant posture. “I’m never running from him again. You should know that. Whatever distance we put between us and him now is for strategy. But . . . there will be a reckoning.”

Tallis watched her with nothing short of complete fascination. Her insides should be jelly. Her mind should be some fog of pain or confusion or madness. But she was still Kavya, the Sun, the goddess who dogged him while waking, not sleeping. Her resolve made him feel invincible.

He walked toward her, slowly, just as she’d approached him when he emerged from his berserker fury. Wild animals required patience and caution. Kavya seemed like just such an animal. She was not the pristine cross between deity and politician who’d spoken on that distant altar. Only days had passed, but already that woman seemed years distant, consumed by danger and circumstance. The woman who’d shouldered his pack and stared at him eye to eye was more primal. She’d shed the constraints of her role.

After kneeling to pick up and sheath his weapons, he touched her chin. His fingers wanted to wander, so he let them—along her hairline, over her cheekbones, down to the lower lip that would never fail to arouse him to his core. “This is closer to who you used to be,” he said quietly. “Isn’t it? This adaptability and resolve. You weren’t always untouchable and perfect.”

“I’ve never claimed to be either.”

“Your followers believed otherwise.” Rather than start another argument—he really didn’t have the strength—he turned to survey where they’d landed. They were surrounded by cornstalks taller than Kavya. “Ten kilometers to . . . what was it? Jaipur? How many people are we talking? Because this doesn’t look promising.”

“I don’t know. Maybe six million?”

“Well, well. A welcome change from Bhuntar. A city means food, new clothes, a bath, shelter.”

She started walking. “You had a bath last night, if I recall.”

“If you recall?” Tallis caught up with her swift steps. “You’ll recall that particular bath for the rest of your life.” He dropped his voice an octave. “And so will I.”

“It’s best to get away from the site of the crash,” she said, apparently ignoring him. “People will come to investigate. We’ll find a little town and transportation that doesn’t involve walking.”

“You want me to steal a car?”

Kavya’s laugh was beautiful, even brushed by a hint of leftover hysteria. “No. Not a car. Never mind. You’ll see.”

It was midmorning, and the blazing sun made the snowstorm up in the Pir Panjal seem like a horror movie villain they’d barely escaped. Every ten minutes or so, Kavya would stop, turn her head some direction or another, and close her eyes. She might make a minor course correction. Tallis bit his tongue to keep from asking questions.

Companionable silence was a good thing after all they had suffered, escaped, and heaped on each other. Soon the monotony of the walk was poking holes in his conscious thought until higher function dribbled through. He was a walking reflex. All instinct. Rather than sink into that seductive trap of action and reaction, he took Kavya’s hand.

“What’s that for?” she asked, staring at where their fingers interlaced.

“Because I wanted to. It’ll give me something to think about other than how tired I am.”

She smiled with that quiet, teasing humor he was beginning to anticipate. “I’m glad you admitted it first. I wasn’t going to mention it at all.”

“Being so tired that the ground looks as comfortable as a feather bed?”

“Something like that.” Her voice was dreamy and soft.

“But you can’t sleep. That whole Indranan thing.”

A heavy sigh lifted her shoulders. “I can’t sleep.”

“Wait.” He pulled her close, guiding her by tense upper arms. She felt even more frail than she looked, although she’d survived several circles of hell. “Are we safe here? There may be loads of Indranan in the city, but can you sense any nearby?”

“What does it—?”

“Let’s call this ‘question time,’ and that’s my first. When we’re done, we can discuss another topic, perhaps one of your choosing.”

Her lips twitched into a smile, as if a feather had tickled her lower lip. “We’re alone. I can’t search too far without giving us away again, but—”

“Good enough.”

“When it’s my turn to speak, will you interrupt me?”

Tallis chuckled and kissed her forehead. It was becoming so easy to touch her so casually. Good? Bad? Didn’t matter in the middle of a sun-drenched cornfield. “We’ll see. There’s no telling when one might need a good interrupt—”

“Are you done yet?”

“You think you’re so clever.”