With Nayan guiding him, Venkat began to forge the newest section of their project, welding the mood of the dream element into each movement. A single branch of what must be an ancient and massive tree bloomed into being, bursting with small pink-and-white buds. With life.

Whatever story the two of them were piecing together would be breathtaking, crafted from the blended ore of invention and vision.

But that was exactly the problem: Nayan still hadn’t told him what that vision was. Venkat’s exuberance eroded like sand beneath a crashing wave. Not to mention, he still hadn’t told Nayan about Jai, Tanvi had never shown up for her appointment, and—

The branch withered, gnarling into a blackened wraith tree straight out of a horror movie. What remained of the dream element slipped from Venkat’s now-shaky mental grasp and disintegrated. He swore.

“My son, is there something you wish to ask me?”

Busted. Venkat glanced up to see Nayan’s arched eyebrows. “I guess I don’t understand why . . .” He couldn’t force the words out.

Nayan waggled his head. “Ah. You wish to know why I did not inform you of the betrothal beforehand.”

The nagas had a term for this level of feeling exposed: scale-stripped. As Venkat stared at his ruined handiwork, he felt as small as the day he’d arrived here.

Nayan moved to the parapet, where the currant-and-papaya flames of sunset had long since given way to the saturated blue of the gloaming. “Asha herself did not know; the negotiations were only completed yesterday.” The first pearly bands of starlight lingered on his imposing features, softening them until they were something close to approachable. “I should say, she suspected such a union in her future. Just not quite so soon.”

But why? Venkat nearly asked. He knew why, though. The garudas’ attempted breaches of Nagalok had brought the war to the nagas’ doorstep, and nerves were fraying like worn thread. The people needed a symbol of clan solidarity to bolster their faith, something they could root for and see themselves in.

“She must have been livid,” he said, trying to laugh it off, like he was Nayan’s apprentice and not the wobbly, desolate kid Nayan had taken in all those years ago. Like he didn’t need any validation.

Nayan’s own chuckle was grim as he turned back to the table. “Oh, I would not have called her happy, no. But some things are greater than the individual.”

“So she doesn’t want to do this?” Venkat pressed, sitting down on the marble bench. Poor Asha, marrying someone she didn’t love but would have to spend a long, long lifetime with.