Dreams and boons. “You handled Jai, and I respect that.” The words stuck in Venkat’s throat like barbs, and he had to push them out. “But let me take care of Tanvi. Please.” He rushed ahead before Nayan could reply. “I know, I know; we have to stay focused on ending the war.” His voice cracked. “But . . .”

“I will think on it. For now, escort her back to her room and prepare yourself for the council meeting.”

“The council meeting?” Venkat definitely hadn’t expected that.

“Indeed. Your attention has wavered of late, and it is time to return it to our greater mission. All else, while diverting in its way, is ultimately a distraction.”

Venkat nodded. “Point taken.”

He knew Nayan was right. He could best help his runners by staying focused on helping everybody.

But once Nayan had turned away, Venkat hurried to Tanvi’s side. She was drooping like a plant no one had watered in weeks, so obviously worn out and terrified that he couldn’t ignore it.

“Let’s get you some rest,” he said. “Can I walk to you to your room?”

She sized him up warily. Then, to his relief, she nodded.

As Venkat walked Tanvi through the gloomy tunnels, he kept waiting for her to say something. She didn’t.

In her room, he guided her to the chair, then poured her a cup of water. When she didn’t take it, he set it down on the table.

“Tanvi,” he said cautiously, pulling the cotton coverlet from the bed and draping it over her shoulders. “What happened to you? Can you tell me?”

She didn’t answer, only fidgeted. It was subtle, a rubbing together of fingers, yet he saw it.

Venkat needed to leave for the council meeting, but the thought of abandoning her here alone after whatever she’d been through sickened him. He knelt by her side. If giving her space to feel safe enough to talk made him a little late, so be it.

He’d never realized just how bare the dream runners’ quarters were. The shelves in his apartments were stocked with enough books and scrolls to keep him entertained for weeks, and every room contained furniture for five people. Tanvi, on the other hand, had a twin bed, a cabinet—at least painted—a simple table and chair, and a spartan wardrobe.

At some point, however, Asha must have suffered one of her periodic spurts of generosity, because a delicate golden vase shone from the windowsill, and an embroidered cushion in red, blue, and green peeked out from beneath the bed. A pink-and-copper lotus-patterned rug glimmered on the floor, collecting dust. Trust Asha, Venkat thought wryly, to hang garlands on the walls and believe the runners would appreciate her efforts at beautification—or even notice them.