Amun hesitated, then stepped away from Mehr, walking to Bahren’s side. He stilled as soon as he heard Kalini speak again. “I’ll send the girl to meet you in a moment.”

“I can do it alone,” Amun said sharply.

“You’ll finish the job more quickly together.”

“I don’t need her help.”

“Sweet as your efforts to coddle her are, your wife shares your burdens. She made a vow. Like it or not, you will have her help.”

“Come on,” Bahren muttered. “We have work to do. Stop this.”

Amun looked at Mehr, indecipherable emotion flickering through his midnight eyes. Then he turned and followed.

Mehr had no idea why Kalini wanted to be alone with her, but she didn’t think any good could come from it. She wanted to cross her arms, to cower back as if her own strength could give her safety. But she stood straight and tall, folding her fear away for another time. She couldn’t defend herself, not here under the Maha’s thumb. But she could try to hold on to the tatters of her pride.

“I hear you’ve been neglecting your husband and spending your time with kitchen maids,” Kalini said.

Mehr said nothing. It was no secret, surely, that Hema and her friends had cultivated a relationship with Mehr.

“You’re going to leave my sister alone.”

Mehr took in a deep, slow breath. She should have known this was coming.

“As the Maha wills,” she murmured.

“I will it. And if you defy me I will personally ensure that your life is as unpleasant as possible.” Kalini’s voice was even, but her eyes were fierce and cold. “I hope we understand each other.”

Mehr nodded, clenching her hands tight.

“Answer me,” Kalini demanded.

“Yes,” said Mehr thinly. “I understand.”

Bahren had a set of knives. They were not Amrithi blades, but they were sharp and clean, doused with medicinal alcohol and wiped dry with cloth by Bahren in Mehr and Amun’s presence. Mehr listened without surprise as Bahren told them that they would need to cut their own flesh and mark all the most important chambers of the temple with their blood.

She should have anticipated that this service would be expected of her. Unlike the Ambhans of Jah Irinah, the mystics knew the power of the daiva intimately. They would want to keep the strongest of the daiva—the amorphous ones, not quite as powerful as the humanoid daiva of the past or the young animal-spirits of the present—away from their home. What better tool to keep them at bay than the blood of their pet Amrithi?

They didn’t have to ask for Mehr or Amun’s consent. They didn’t have to barter with them, as the Irin had once bartered with the Amrithi clans who drifted near their cities and villages. They could simply take. After all, Mehr and Amun had made a vow.