“Good.” Nayan waited for Madhu to clear their dishes away before continuing. “I trust you enjoyed yourself at the party last night?”

Venkat nodded cautiously.

“I am glad. I hear you were quite the hit among Asha’s companions.” Nayan smiled again, the proud smile that usually left Venkat glowing inside and eager to work even harder. Then it dimmed. “Until you left, that is. Rather early, as opposed to what we had discussed.”

Venkat was almost relieved. Nayan knew. Of course he knew.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “Last night I went to look for Jai. And he wasn’t there.” That wasn’t true—Tanvi was the one who’d gone to look. His heart hammered in alarm; he never lied to Nayan.

But his mouth refused to form the right words. Refused even now to admit that Tanvi had run away.

“You are a son to me, Venkat,” Nayan said, “and it pains me to see you suffering. Yet it must be said: everything has its cost, and no dream runner can endure indefinitely. You know this.”

If only Venkat could be as calm as Nayan. “I do, but—”

But it still hurts. Venkat remembered the clever but cold boy Asha had rescued from neglectful parents, remembered how well Jai had taken to running dreams, and how each granted boon had invigorated him from the inside out. We should have saved him.

I should have.

Nayan and Madhu watched him steadily. “And you feel responsible,” Nayan stated.

Venkat hung his head. “Yes.”

“Let me show you something.” Nayan unfolded from his chair. “Old mother, please leave us. I would speak to Venkat alone.”

“You are being foolish.” The exasperation in Madhu’s pursed mouth was unmistakable. “He is not ready!”

Nayan’s brows drew together. “Enough,” he thundered. “I permit and even welcome your counsel. But do not forget who answers to whom.”

Acrid resentment smoldered in Madhu’s eyes. She made no attempt to look away, as if she meant for Nayan to catch it. Venkat had seen them clash before, but not like this. The air between them crackled with unseen lightning as Nayan held her stare.

At last Madhu lowered her head. “Understood.”

“Good.” Nayan dismissed her with a wave. “Then go about your affairs, and leave us to ours.”

Madhu joined her palms before her averted gaze. Without another word, she turned and stalked from the archives.

Venkat could still feel the tension, leaden and oppressive. “What was that?”

Nayan beckoned for Venkat to follow him into the lift. “Madhu has her own conception of how things should be run, and I have mine. It occasionally leads to friction, but I much prefer that to the useless fawning of a sycophant.”