Mehr watched him inhale and exhale, and realized he wasn’t breathing steadily because he was calm, but because he wasn’t. The Maha had shaken him just as much as he’d shaken Mehr. Amun was controlling his body, his breath, with a will like iron. He was holding in the torrent of feeling.

“I sent you to him unprepared, and for that I am sorry,” Amun said. “But I believed your ignorance would protect our secret, and I was right.” He swallowed. “I won’t lie to you again. Now that you’ve met him, we can speak honestly.”

Although his voice was hard, he had turned his face away, his neck and jaw in shadows. His hands were clasped behind him, his shoulders eloquent with tension. In the desert she’d told him how much emotion his body revealed. He clearly hadn’t taken her words to heart. She could only find it in herself to be glad of it as she let out a shaky breath of her own and pried her fingers loose from the edge of the window. In those shoulders, in that turned head, she could read everything she needed to know.

He was controlling himself for her sake. He knew exactly how she felt. He’d been in her place, helpless in the presence of the Maha. Owned. He was still owned and helpless. But instead of lashing out as she had, he had led her up the narrow staircase to his room with wordless, endless patience. He’d opened the shutters to let the world in, giving her a small taste of the freedom she craved to quiet the fear in her heart.

He was being kind. Mehr swallowed, her throat closing. She was dangerously close to weeping.

“You shouldn’t,” Mehr said, hoping her voice was steady. “Honesty is all well and good, but what if he had asked me about the vow?”

“He didn’t.”

“You took a risk, and we were lucky,” Mehr acknowledged. “But he could have asked me anything, and I would have been honest with him. I couldn’t help myself. My voice wasn’t my own.” The knowledge was bitter on her tongue. She copied Amun, breathing through the fear. “I can’t lie to him, Amun. You should keep your secrets safe from me.”

“I told you I would be honest with you. That wasn’t a false promise.”

“You can’t be,” Mehr said helplessly.

“I can,” Amun retorted. “You can learn to resist him.”

“As you do?”

“Better than I can, Mehr. I’m fully bound by my vows. I can only … alter the shape of my obedience. Or suffer, if I choose to resist.” A bitter smile shaped his mouth. “Your vow isn’t sealed. You can still fight.”

She remembered the Maha’s voice. The ghost of hands on her face, compelling her to face him. She shivered.

“I’m not sure I can,” she said tightly.