“Grasping the need to perform one’s duty does not always make the actual undertaking of it any more pleasant,” Nayan said, joining him. “Asha’s companions do not know how to support her in this; they see only the opportunity they all desire, a rise in station and attendant power. You, however, do.”

He laid a firm hand on Venkat’s shoulder. “I have known since I first brought you into my employ that you are special. That you possess a talent to create beauty far surpassing any artist I have encountered in my many years. But as my representative, you must become more practiced in other arts as well—the politics of our court.”

Venkat didn’t quite know how to interpret that last sentence. He’d already been shadowing Nayan at official functions, quietly noting any unusual conversations and interactions and reporting them later.

Again, Nayan read him as easily as his favorite volume of folktales. “I have kept you on the sidelines for too long, my son, and it is time you learn to hold your own among our people. Starting tonight.”

Please, no. Hadn’t last night been enough? Did Venkat really have to show up at the impromptu betrothal party, too? A whole stack of books waited by his bed, urging him to refuse.

But Asha could probably use his encouragement. “I’ll be there,” he said, injecting his voice with all the fake enthusiasm he could muster.

“Will you?” Nayan’s slit-pupiled gaze sliced through him. “How can I believe that when my own dreamsmith is being less than truthful with me?”

“What? I don’t—”

“Everyone and everything has its day, including our dream runners,” Nayan stated, and in the fathoms of that gaze, Venkat saw only compassion. “Even Jai.”

Jai. Venkat’s breath calcified into that single syllable.

The dam in his chest toppled, and the serpent of grief coiled behind it sank its fangs into his heart. Nayan knew. Of course he did. Nayan was the one person Venkat had never been able to hide from.

“That he has endured as long as he has is a testament to the depth of your care and devotion.” Nayan’s voice grew brusque. “Nevertheless, you must not attempt to shoulder such burdens yourself. You know this.”

Venkat’s eyes swam, his pulse seesawing between regret and guilt-streaked relief at finally having the truth out in the open. He asked thickly, “I— Shouldn’t this get easier?” Flames of rage at his own failure licked at him. “Why doesn’t it?”

“The only way it would get ‘easier’ is if your heart were to harden, and I will not permit that.” Nayan released Venkat’s shoulder. “All this grieves you, and with good reason. Nevertheless, you must always be forthright with me. Without trust, our objective has no foundation.”