She felt Hema come and settle down beside her.

“Some of us serve in a different way,” Hema said. Her voice was kind. “Some of us have to be brave.”

Hema touched her fingertips gently to Mehr’s arm. “I hoped showing you the glory of our purpose would help.”

She should have stayed with Amun. Here, among all these people, she missed his steadiness, his solidity. She resented the pity in Hema’s eyes: resented it, and burned at how wrong it all was, how little they understood of her suffering, or his.

“What has he ever done to deserve being so hated?” Mehr asked.

A sharp silence. “He’s like an animal,” Hema said. She continued, a careful edge to her voice. “You know. All men are not like him.”

Mehr tried not to laugh. “I was raised a noblewoman. I had no brothers. My father was the only man I knew before him.” But I know men aren’t all like him. They’re not as good. Or kind.

“The way he acts …” Hema’s eyes lingered on Mehr’s face. The fading bruise on her cheek. “The way he treats you … we’ve all seen it. We …” She stopped. Thinned her lips, then said firmly, “We know you do your duty. And we feel for you.”

“He doesn’t hurt me,” Mehr said.

“Mehr—”

“He doesn’t touch me. You don’t see, you understand. He doesn’t touch me, not like that, not at all, at all.” Vehement words. “He’s a good man.”

Mehr stopped, sucking in a breath, trying to calm the heat of her brain, her flesh. She was so addled that it took a moment for the reality of what she’d said—what she’d done—to hit her. Cold gripped her heart.

Oh, Gods.

She hoped for a moment that Hema wouldn’t understand the full meaning of what she’d said. Hema was not in the Maha’s inner circle, after all. She should not have been privy to the workings of his control over his Amrithi, and the details of the vow that held Mehr to Amun and to the Maha in turn.

But Hema was Kalini’s sister.

Hema hadn’t misinterpreted Mehr’s words. Not this time. Her eyes were wide. Her face had grayed, drained of color. She’d understood Mehr perfectly.

You shouldn’t have said it. The voice in Mehr’s head was dispassionate and clear. You shouldn’t have thought it.

Now the Maha will rip you both apart.

Rip them apart—and rip them away from each other.

Mehr rose to her feet and stumbled outside. She made it as far as the edge of the oasis before she was violently sick.