In the morning Amun went to the Maha. He dressed with laborious, painful slowness. In the pale dawn light creeping through the windows, his skin looked gray. Bahren waited for him by the door, his back turned. Mehr stayed on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin, and watched them both.

Bahren doesn’t seem entirely happy with the Maha, she’d told Amun last night.

Bahren is old, Amun had responded. Old and trusted. He has seen more of what the Maha can do than most. But he’s loyal, Mehr. Do not doubt that.

Mehr had said nothing to that. She didn’t doubt Bahren’s loyalty. But she’d seen chink after chink in his shields: his grimness when he’d carried Mehr from the desert, eyes haunted; the way he’d sucked in a sharp breath when he’d seen her bruised face by the oasis; the night of mercy he’d given Amun to recover before facing the Maha. All those small cracks added together into a clear weakness, a wound that Mehr could potentially use to her advantage.

How, she didn’t know. But as she stared at Bahren’s back, noting his crossed arms and the tired lurch of his head, she knew she would find a use for it in time.

“The Maha will be growing impatient,” Bahren said in an even voice. He didn’t turn.

Amun tied his sash carefully at the waist of his tunic. She saw the faint tremor of his fingers and bit down on her own tongue just hard enough to remind herself that she couldn’t protect him. Not this time. Not yet.

“I’m ready,” said Amun. He gave her a look as he left. All will be well, that look said. She wasn’t sure if he was looking at her to reassure her or to reassure himself.

Mehr waited for a long moment, then stood up. If she left the room now and went to the bathing chamber, she would just have time to wash her face and comb a hand through her hair before facing the day. The bell for morning prayers hadn’t rung yet, but it would soon, and Mehr didn’t want to face the mystics looking both bruised and haggard. The bruises were beyond her control, but at least she had power over the rest of her appearance.

Although her feet felt frozen beneath her, Mehr willed herself to move. She would have to go to morning prayers whether she liked it or not. The routine of life in the temple was strict. It wouldn’t relent for Mehr just because she didn’t want to take part.

At least she had the comfort of knowing it wouldn’t be the Maha leading prayers today. Knowing his eyes wouldn’t be on her gave her the strength to make her way down the staircase to begin the day.