“You don’t have to thank me,” Hema said in return. “You and I—we’re not just citizens of the Empire any longer. We’re so much more. We’re Saltborn. We’re family now.”

The sight of the approaching storm left a fire in Mehr’s blood. Mehr could feel the necessary stillness inside her that Amun had worked so hard to teach her, and the sigils flowed easily from her fingers. But she lacked the concentration to learn any of the new tasks Amun was trying to show her, and the knowledge slipped through her fingers like so much sand.

Amun showed no impatience. Instead he was quieter than ever, his hands feather-light on her wrists as he guided her through shape after shape, sigil after sigil. His eyes had a faraway look.

She wondered if he knew how close the storm stood. If he could smell its sweetness on the air. Now that Mehr had seen it, she certainly could. Every time she breathed in, the aftertaste of smoke filled her lungs.

It didn’t take long for the news of the approaching storm to spread. Amun was standing behind Mehr, directing her arms in carefully timed increments, when he went still, his grip tightening on her wrists. Mehr froze. They weren’t alone any longer.

“Kalini,” said Amun.

“Continue,” Kalini said from the doorway. “Don’t mind us now, Amun.”

Mehr craned her neck. She saw the edge of Kalini’s dark robe, melding with the shadows on the floor. Behind her stood Bahren, his arms crossed.

“Mehr,” Amun prompted quietly. Mehr looked away.

Their already shaken concentration had been ruined entirely, but they returned to their training regardless. Instead of moving on to new sigils, Amun returned to careful, familiar repetitions of movement that they had perfected earlier, putting on a show of competence for Kalini’s judgmental gaze. Mehr knew she could have done better—nervousness made her clumsy—but she hadn’t expected Kalini’s eyes to narrow with such clear displeasure in response.

“Is that all you’ve accomplished?” Kalini’s voice was full of disapproval.

“We’ve accomplished a great deal,” Amun said.

“Don’t try to lie to me,” said Kalini. “The Maha told me what to look for. She’s learning too slowly.”

“She’s learning far more swiftly than I ever did,” Amun replied.

“You had years to learn. She has days,” Kalini said. Her gaze cut to Mehr. Her voice was pure ice. “You need to do better. The Maha demands it of you.”

“I’ll be prepared,” said Mehr. “I know my duty. You can tell the Maha so.”

“Tell him yourself. You’ll share dinner with him tomorrow night.” She gestured at Bahren, who stepped forward. Mehr hadn’t thought it possible, but somehow the older mystic’s face had become even grimmer. “Tonight Bahren needs your assistance.”