Page 16 of The Surviving Sky
Through a curve in the copse, her husband stepped forward. Iravan brushed a few stray leaves from the cuffs of his kurta. His gaze went from Dhruv to Ahilya, an assessing look. Dhruv moved back.
Ahilya stared at her husband, her heart pounding. She gripped her satchel out of instinct, the instruments clinking together. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard them talk? Why was he there at all? Iravan smiled as though he had heard her last question. Ahilya had always hated that particular smile: dark, humorless, heavy with irony.
“I came to see my wife,” he said to Dhruv, though his eyes held hers. “If it’s all right with everyone here, of course.”
Oam and Naila had stopped their chatter to stare at him. Iravan was not the tallest there, yet when he strode forward, his presence dwarfed the copse, making the others insignificant. On Dhruv’s face Ahilya read her own alarm. Had Iravan heard them talk about the spiralweed? It didn’t seem so, unless he was hiding his reaction. But why would he do that? She was being paranoid. Wasn’t she? A hundred thoughts piled in her mind. Ahilya felt Dhruv leave her side.
Iravan wasn’t trajectinganymore—therewere no blue-green tattoos on his darkskin—butthe copse became smaller the closer he came. He stopped a handbreadth away from her and inclined his head, a wry smile on his face.
Ahilya inhaled, trying to calm herself, but Iravan’s scent assaulted her: firemint and eucalyptus, sharp and spicy. She could almost feel his stubble, like dry brush. She could distinguish the deep brown from the black in his eyes. The copse, the twilight,him—itunsettled her. In her mind, Dhruv and the others melted away, and she and Iravan stood there alone, as though transported back to seven months before. This was how they’d faced off, right before unclothing each other, their haste youthful, almost angry. She felt suddenly, desperately, a desire to cup his cheek, embrace his body, forget their feud. Yet panic paralyzed her.
“Hello, Ahilya,” he murmured. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I was hoping we could talk.”
“I can’t right now. We’re already late.”
“We haven’t seen each other inmonths—”
“That was your decision, Iravan. I sent you a message.”
His face grew withdrawn. Iravan pressed a hand against the nape of his neck.“I—yes—that’strue. But I’m here now, and wecould—Idon’tknow—sortit out. Perhaps your expedition can wait?”
“It can’t,” she said. “I’m tracking a tagged yaksha for the first time, and it might move any minute. We can talk when I’m free.”
“Or I can accompany you. If you’re heading into the jungle, you need an architect to traject your path outside.”
“We have Naila,” Ahilya said. “Sheis—”
“A Junior Architect,” Iravan completed. “I know; I assigned her to your expedition.”
“And I accept with gratitude. She’ll do.”
“Ahilya,please—trajectionisn’t as easy as it’s always been. My skills can be helpful. And wecan—Idon’tknow—I’vemissed you.”
“Nomeansno, Iravan.”
He drew back at that, shock on his face. They still stood close, and their voices were quiet, but in the tension of his neck Ahilya could sense his hurt and confusion. His eyes traveled to her throat to the tracker locket, then toward Dhruv and the others, and back again to the satchel she gripped.
She released her bag at once, but she knew it was a mistake even as she did it. Iravan knew her too well. Besides, he was an architect, aSeniorArchitect. No one could traject humans, but his entire job was to detect and maneuver latent states of being. He hadaskedthe sungineers for a battery. How much did he know of Dhruv’s desperation? How much had he guessed about their alliance? How much had heheard? She tried not to swallow.
Iravan’s brows furrowed. “This is unlike you,” he said, his voice becoming reflective. “Why are you being this way?”
“Maybe I’m tired of doing everything on your terms.”
“Myterms?” he began, sudden fury in his eyes, but then he breathed deeply and shook his head. “No, you’re deflecting. You’re hiding something. What is it?”
“Go back inside. We can talk later.”
Iravan’s veins blazed blue-green, and the grass by Ahilya turned to thorns. “Tell the truth, Ahilya. Why don’t you want me out there with you?”
“Tell the truth, Iravan. Why didn’t you visit me at all during the earthrage?”
He blinked. He hadn’t expected that. The thorns by her feet receded.
“I was busy keeping the ashram in flight,” he snapped. “There were complications which required the skills of a Senior Architect. It may surprise you, but terrible effort goes behind the comfort and safety you live in. If architects don’t traject constantly, the city falls to the earthrage.”
Ahilya’s own anger rose. She stared at him, unable to believe he would throw her inability to traject in her face.
“Let me come withyou—”he began again, but Ahilya stepped back a few paces, increasing the distance between them.
