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.”
Tallis continued their trudge, leading them down the mountain. It was roughly thirty-five miles to their destination, Bhuntar, but a four-thousand-foot drop in altitude. Kavya felt renewed strength in her lungs as the thin air gave way to stronger bursts of oxygen. She eyed Tallis. The tension in his shoulders gave away that he shared none of her invigoration, as did the way stiff steps spoiled his warrior’s grace.
“What are Masquerades?” he asked.
“Back-alley merchants. They’re generally considered unclean. No one acknowledges a Masquerade as a family member, and none I’ve ever met live in pods. They hone their gift to provide Masks for the right price.”
“Like human moneylenders of old—necessary but exiled.”
“Yes.”
He seemed bitter, even repulsed, despite nodding. Again, she felt the need to explain Indranan culture. How could Dragon Kings know so little about the rest of the Five Clans? How had they become so insular?
“Your gift is too dangerous,” he said softly.
“That’s rich coming from the man who used teeth rather than steel. Is a Pendray berserker any less dangerous?”
“There’s no hiding what we do. You hide behind party tricks and layers of lies. I know who I am. You don’t have a clue.”
“You know, do you?” She heard the sneer in her words, which was new. Surprising. When was the last time she’d given over to words so pure in meaning and tone? “You’re the man who doubts his sanity. You’re the man who dresses like a human but hides a raging beast. You might as well be Jekyll and Hyde. Admit it and feel better for it. ‘Yes, Kavya, I’m half of myself when I’m a regular man.’ ”
He spun and grabbed her shoulders. The sound of Chandrani’s saber drawn from its scabbard should’ve been reassuring, but Kavya didn’t want her friend’s protection. She wanted to push Tallis. To learn more about him.
“I’m both,” he snapped. “There’s no need to choose.”
“Liar. And if you keep lying to me, we’ll part ways no matter how useful you might be in defending me.”
“You think that’s the reason why I’m traveling with you?” He clamped tighter on her shoulders. “Dragon-damned woman. You’re the most perfect bait a fisherman could want. A wiggling little worm to drag Pashkah out of hiding. If he’s the person who’s been manipulating me, or if he can provide any information at all, then with him is where I need to be.”
“So you can, what, bite him again? That must be your hobby.”
“I’ll kill him. Get him out of my head.”
“I’m a worm,” she said with disgust. “Bait. You are as delusional as you fear.”
His mouth was a sour pucker, when she’d felt it softer and more pliable, capable of moments of tenderness. “Delusional, says the telepath who can’t tell Masks from reality.”
“You’re a hypocrite, too. Or a stubborn moron, just like everyone assumes of the Pendray.”
She actually grinned when all he could do was shake her. That snap of leashed aggression was welcome. It distracted her from Pashkah—the real danger she faced—and revealed another aspect of Tallis’s character. He could’ve unleashed that aggression at any point in their association, but he’d held it back until the last possible moment. Then he’d possessed sense enough to use it against genuine evil.