They were met beneath the shadow of one low dome by three men who drew them inside and shut the doors behind them. As the mystics started to chatter and embrace, their voices low with relief, Mehr took her first few steps into the interior of the temple. With the doors shut, the natural light was quenched. Here there was nothing but the flicker of lamplight to illuminate the bare walls and long corridors. She kept her eyes lowered, breathing softly against the folds of cloth around her face. As long as she kept quiet and let the mystics talk, they would most likely ignore her. And Mehr needed a moment alone to find her strength.

The temple around her was far from beautiful, but it felt like the desert: arid but somehow vibrant. Alive. The floor was not the pale marble of home, but the burnished gold of sand under sunlight. She wanted to reach down and feel it with her fingers. It was hard not to believe that it would exude heat the way the desert did during the daylight hours. Her gaze flickered up to the walls, a deeper hue of bronze, and to the hooks where the lamps hung, swinging in a breeze funneled through the winding corridors. She didn’t know where the breeze had come from. It smelled sweet, like water or soil in rain.

She glanced back at the welcoming party. The men were still laughing, embracing, but one lone man was standing quietly by Kalini’s side. Mehr saw him whisper something in Kalini’s ear. Kalini caught Mehr’s eye; she crooked a finger at her. Come here.

Mehr obeyed, stepping back over to her.

“We need to leave,” Kalini told her. “The Maha has requested your presence.”

Kalini strode past her. Mehr looked back, just for a moment, seeking out Amun’s gaze. He was still standing at the entrance, his back to the closed door and his arms crossed. He wasn’t looking at her.

“Quicker,” Kalini called out. Mehr looked away and followed her.

What had she expected him to do? Run after her? No. Not that. But she had expected him to raise his eyes, to look at her as she left his side for the first time in days. She already missed the reassurance of his presence at her side, the solidity of him, the coolness of his shadow over her. Her face was hot. She clenched her hands up tight. What a fool she was.

She didn’t need Amun to reassure her. She needed to rely on herself, first and foremost. To do otherwise would be to cultivate an unforgivable weakness. And Mehr could not allow herself to be weak.

“You will need to dress appropriately before entering the Maha’s presence,” Kalini said, leading Mehr down a dizzying array of corridors. “Use the bathing room. I’ll send someone to collect you.”