At some point between Uloopi bringing Arjun down through the Ganga River into Nagalok to spend a day and night together as husband and wife and Uloopi’s subsequent journey to Prithvi so her new son could live alongside Arjun’s human bride and their son, Tanvi dangled her legs over the side of the bed. She sat close enough to lean her chin on Venkat’s shoulder if she’d wanted to. When she blinked, he tried not to notice how long her lashes were.

What was he thinking? Just because this was a love story?

Venkat threw himself back into it. Arjun’s human son Babruvahana had been cursed to kill his father on the battlefield, and only Uloopi knew the truth of that curse. Despite everyone else’s horror, she coaxed Babruvahana into going through with the unthinkable deed. Then, once Arjun lay slain, she brought out a nagamani and rejuvenated him.

“See?” he finished. “Everything worked out.”

Tanvi assessed him, her gaze shrewd. Venkat should be alarmed by that, at least disturbed.

He wasn’t.

Worse, he liked the glimpses of her curiosity. The flares of her passion. She was too animated for this lifeless room, too vital to be hidden away. Maybe it was selfish, but the thought of dousing that spirit a second time made bile rise in his throat.

Get up. His pulse ticked faster and faster, a clock counting down the minutes until he’d need to head to the archives and unlock the doors for the public. You have to show her.

Just when he’d almost convinced himself, Tanvi reached for the book. Relieved, he gave it to her.

She ran a finger over everything but the embossing, like the nagas might sprout fangs and attack. “Do you think there’s a nagamani for fixing dream runners?”

Funny, Venkat thought. All these dreamstones, and not a single wish-granting gem. “If there is, nobody told me.”

For so long, he’d yearned to forget his own past. He’d envied the dream runners, who’d passed the initiation and had their hearts stilled. Their pain stamped out. They couldn’t be hurt.

Watching Tanvi now, desperate to forget whatever it was she refused to tell him, Venkat considered not showing her. Letting her stay oblivious like the others.

But even if he did, burnout was coming. He couldn’t freeze time.

“Tanvi,” he said, “tell me what you remember. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”

“None of that matters. Initiate me again,” she pleaded. “I know you can.”

He had to fight against the lump in his throat. “Do you know why I ended up here?” he asked. “My family died. In front of me. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

Tanvi watched him, so wretched it tore at his heart. “Wouldn’t you want to forget that if you could?”

Wouldn’t he?