They stared at each other, Tanvi and the twin she shouldn’t have, and her heart thumped hard against her ribs. None of this should be happening. None of it.

“I see,” said Asha, her shoulders slumped. “Tanvi, let us depart.”

As she pushed away from the table, something screeched above them, loud enough that Tanvi plugged her ears.

A flock of at least fifty gold-feathered eagles circled overhead, blinding against the gray-white sky. They were huge, much bigger than any birds on Prithvi had a right to be.

“What the hell?” Sameer and Binh demanded in unison.

The giant eagles keened again and dipped until Tanvi could see the malice in their cunning stares.

No ordinary eagles looked like that. They were garudas.

“We need to get out of here!” she shouted.

Thunder roared across the sky, and the clouds abruptly opened up, dumping their water in huge sheets and dropping visibility to almost nil. A garudi broke through the rain to dive-bomb the spot where Asha stood before soaring back up to her comrades. Her wings were the shade of pomegranates, like the scarf on the ground.

“Tanvi!” Asha cried.

Tanvi ran toward the sound of Asha’s voice.

More garudas swooped down, isolating the two of them from the others. Tanvi heard Nitya scream, but there was nothing she could do.

“Princess!” a severe voice called. “Runner! To me, now!”

Madhu appeared behind Asha. She wore lean human legs, her fangs jutted dagger sharp from her mouth, and the rage radiating from her threatened to sear holes in the garudas’ plumage. Her hand clamped down on Asha’s shoulder. “We must leave now.”

Tanvi barely had time to blink before Madhu seized her arm and brushed a pendant of interlocking snakes.

The blue-green of the water dimension appeared around the three of them, forming a translucent veil. Keening, a few of the garudas hurled themselves against the barrier, but they ricocheted off.

“Tanvi!” Nitya pleaded, already leagues away. “Don’t go!”

Tanvi pretended not to hear.

As Madhu pulled them down, Tanvi’s body yielded to the rhythm of the waves. She didn’t even mind how intense the blues and greens were this time.

Soon she’d be home, back to the way things should be.

17

Yet another messenger, his satin dupatta billowing out around him, approached the entrance to the archives, where Venkat had been stationed. Venkat suppressed a groan.

“I am told Lord Nayan has been detained by urgent matters at present,” the messenger said, making no effort to conceal his own pique, “and my liege would never deem to impose during such inopportune circumstances. Nevertheless, as time is at a premium, she bade me inquire if he intends to reopen trade for the day?”