Mehr looked at the board again, leaning forward. Most of the opposite team’s black pieces sat like guards, defending their corners, but a few were encroaching on the opposite side of the board. She touched her fingers to the edge of one disc. Instead of trying to score a point, she flicked the disc to the left, sabotaging the opposite team by blocking their route. Her side of the room shrieked with delight, as the other side gave good-natured yells of disbelief.

“You can be on our side next time,” one girl said.

Mehr leaned back and laughingly agreed.

She had a few more turns with the discs after that, but there were enough people in the room that—once the novelty of her appearance had worn off—she was able to fade into the background. Eventually as the hours ticked by and the night deepened, some of the women curled up in their bedrolls to sleep. The game drew to a close and the last winnings were carefully apportioned out by Rena, who then wiped the board clean with water and tucked it away. Mehr got up to leave, and Hema followed after her.

“Come back again tomorrow night if you like,” she said, walking alongside Mehr. Her words weren’t an order, but they sounded very much like one.

Mehr would have liked to oblige. But she thought of Amun—of the Rite of the Bound, and the coming storm, and the weight of the seal around her neck—and could only offer up a helpless shrug in response. “If I can,” she said.

“Mehr,” Hema began. Then she paused. Pursed her lips, before she said, all in a rush: “If your husband doesn’t want to let you go, you can tell me.”

Mehr slowed her steps, then stopped entirely as Hema placed a light hand on her wrist. The look in Hema’s eyes made her uneasy.

“We have a great deal to do,” Mehr said slowly. “That’s all.”

Hema took a step closer. They were far enough from both the sleeping quarters and the temple that they were unlikely, at least for a moment, to be heard by anyone else.

“You can tell me if he frightens you,” Hema said in a low voice. “I can try to help you.”

For a moment Mehr didn’t know what to say. Frighten her? Why would Amun frighten her?

“I’ve lived here a long time,” said Hema, when Mehr simply shook her head, wordless with confusion. “I’ve seen what he is. You don’t need to lie to me.”

Amun’s moods could be mercurial, but even at his most sullen there was a gentleness in him, a vulnerability in every line of his body. Mehr saw it. She was sure the Maha saw it too, and Kalini. She thought everyone saw it when they looked at him. Despite Mehr’s warnings, his body was still the mirror of his heart.