“I know you do. She was one of the runners in your care. Nevertheless, you must not allow yourself to become carried away and lose all perspective.”

That reasonable tone, that cool guidance. Why couldn’t Nayan just get mad and yell? Venkat felt himself losing his grip on the situation, already so slippery.

“I know how it sounds,” he said, “but all those attempted breaches?” He waited until he had Nayan’s attention before continuing. “I think Madhu was behind them, and she’s going to bring her garudas to the wedding. It’s the perfect time, with all the clans in one place.”

“Such a vivid imagination you have.” What should have been a compliment from Nayan stung like a rebuke. “It is the sharpest tool in your dreamsmithing arsenal, but you must learn to master it, not permit it to rob you of your perspective.”

“It’s true.” Venkat fought to keep his voice in check. If Nayan only knew about Nitya. About Tanvi’s mother. “Madhu threatened Tanvi if she told anyone. And—”

What was he saying? No, Nayan couldn’t know about Nitya. Not while he trusted Madhu.

“And yet Tanvi told you,” Nayan observed. “That seems counterproductive, does it not?”

Venkat had no answer for that.

“A spy,” Nayan repeated, amusement leaching into his words. “I selected Madhu myself. I have kept her close for centuries. If there were even the least hint she wished to betray me, surely I would have noticed by now.”

He spoke like he was deconstructing a council member’s unreasonable demands. Like they both knew Venkat was being childish, and he needed to be brought back into line.

It was easy enough for Venkat to forget before, but now, with nothing to distract him, he saw it. Nayan was a lord. He was accustomed to being right. His aristocrat’s features had hardened into their remote lines, and it felt to Venkat like his heart had slammed shut, too.

“But . . . ,” Venkat started, then gave up.

What was the point? The only proof he had was Tanvi’s secondhand account. A rogue dream runner was hardly what anyone would call a reliable witness.

“But nothing. Let us leave the matter there,” Nayan said tersely. “Now go and prepare yourself. At noon, before the ceremony begins, we will present the bride and groom with our gift of long-overdue healing.”

“As you say.” Venkat bowed his head. “But if I may, I want to give the runners back their toys. After today, we won’t need them anymore, right?”

“Now that, my son, is a fair and compassionate suggestion, and one it pleases me to hear,” Nayan said. He opened the treasury, and Venkat loaded his arms with everything but Jai’s tricycle. It was too bulky, and there was no one to return it to, anyway.

Before he could succumb to the melancholy again, he left.