She wanted him to keep holding her head in his hands. She wanted this moment to last forever, so she wouldn’t have to face the mystics and the Maha and the wounds that had been inflicted on her skin and her soul. She pressed into his hands and eventually found her way onto the bed by his side. She curled up against him, her head on his chest, his heart beating under her ear. He kept one hand on her cheek, his body entirely still, as if he were afraid a sudden movement would shatter her. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, shatter her. There was no violence in him. Not even a little. He was her only safe harbor in the storm.

She listened to his heart beating and his shallow, pained breath. She listened for a long time before she finally moistened her lips with her tongue and spoke.

“Does the rite always affect you like this?”

“It’s always terrible,” Amun said. “But no. I’m young. Strong. It grows worse over time, as you get older. It wears the body out. This time it was much worse for me. Worse than it has ever been before. I don’t …” A shaky breath. She felt the rise and fall of his chest. “I am sorry, Mehr.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Mehr said. “Nothing at all.”

He huffed out another sharp breath. But he didn’t argue with her. “The rite is always fierce.” He went on. “Painful.” Hesitation. “But that anger—you felt it?”

“Of course I did.”

“I’ve never felt anything like it before, Mehr.”

“It felt like a nightmare,” Mehr whispered. “A true nightmare, a thing of rage and fear.”

She described then the creature she’d seen after the storm before she’d fallen unconscious. Its flat silver eyes, its brittle body. “I felt like it was born from those suppressed dreams,” she said. “It felt like all the things the Maha had kept from this world breathed life into it.”

Amun was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I felt it in my bones. My mind.”

Mehr shuddered. Nodded.

“As did I,” she admitted.

She took a deep breath. She felt the seal tied to her throat rise and fall with her.

“It was because of me,” Mehr said finally. “The nightmare you felt—it was there because of me.”

“No, Mehr,” Amun said instantly. She felt his hand shift on her cheek. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“You’re disagreeing because you want me to feel better,” Mehr cut in, calm now. She was sure of herself. “But don’t you see, Amun? I’m not truly bound. I danced the rite, I danced for the glory of the Maha, for the Empire, for the Emperor … but because of your mercy, all my will, all my blood, wasn’t tied to the Maha’s will and blood, as yours is.”