Venkat and the attendant finally reached Asha’s sitting room. The attendant rapped at the doorjamb. “Your Highness, you have a visitor. Shall I admit him?”

As promised, Asha lounged on a divan in the center of the floor, languidly sipping from a golden goblet whose stem had been sculpted to resemble a pair of intertwining serpents. Resplendent in apricot silk spangled with seed pearls, she might have sprung from one of the copious champak blossoms garlanding the room. “You may let him by.” She set down her goblet and blew Venkat a kiss.

If it had been just the two of them, he would have mocked her for hours.

“I shall be right outside if you need me, Your Highness,” the attendant said.

With your ear pressed to the door, of course, Venkat amended silently. Don’t forget that part.

“Yes, yes,” Asha said, with a minor tilt of her head. “As always, your help is greatly appreciated, Udita.”

The attendant bowed her head and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

“At lassssst,” Asha hissed, her relaxed expression falling away. She leaped off the divan and glided to the farthest wall, beckoning for Venkat to do the same.

He strode after her. “You owe me that explanation, Asha. Was seeing your boyfriend really worth all this?” His banked rancor heated from a simmer to a boil. “Do you ever think about anybody else?”

Asha drew in a breath. Fury radiated from her glowing eyes, and her fangs emerged. “How dare you! At least I aided Tanvi in finding her truth. Can you say the same?”

“I’m trying to—” Venkat cut himself off. They didn’t have time for this. He lowered his voice. “Never mind. Listen, Tanvi won’t tell me what’s going on. What happened that day?”

“Is she using the feather telephones?”

Venkat nodded. Tanvi had told him that much, at least. “Where did you even get them?”

“The Night Market.” Asha examined a plum-and-cerulean enameled lotus ring on her right hand. “That pleases me. I would have supposed Sameer had talked Nitya into keeping her distance.”

“So what happened?”

He couldn’t believe it, but the proud Princess Asha, descendant of the nagaraja and symbol of the clans’ unity, actually hung her head. “I grew curious. Most of the runners have no true family left to speak of; that is one of my criteria for selecting them.”

Venkat waved impatiently. “So?”

“Yet Tanvi did—and does. She has a twin sister and parents who treated her properly.”

“And you still took her?”

“She was miserable and desired to go,” Asha said. “Would you have refused her?”

“Yes, Asha! Gods.” Venkat could have shaken her. He settled for running his hands through his hair. “That’s not a reason.”