Mehr was silent. She wished Hema would let go of her. Her heart was hammering in her throat. There was no room for words. She felt Hema’s grip slacken, just a little. Saw her gaze soften. “I am going to try to forget what you told me,” Hema murmured. “I am going to decide I misunderstood you. Perhaps I did. But I will hold you in my prayers and hope you do what is right. Do what’s right, Mehr, and all will be well in the end. So the Maha wills.”

Mehr nodded wordlessly. Hema smiled.

“Good. Good.”

Mehr heard a scuffling sound behind them. She looked up and saw Anni watching them. She didn’t know how long Anni had been standing there; she didn’t know how much Anni had heard. But Anni looked no different from usual, just a little cold, her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm.

“Hema,” Anni said timidly. “Mehr. Are you coming back in?”

Hema sighed. She released Mehr and kneeled back. “You can stay here tonight,” she said to Mehr.

Mehr shook her head. “No,” she said. “No. My … my place is with my husband.”

Hema gave her a faint, approving nod.

“Drink some more water before you go,” she said. “Your head is going to feel foul in the morning.”

Hema accompanied Mehr to the staircase of her room. Mehr made the journey up by herself. When she entered the bedroom, she found Amun asleep, curled up on his side. For all his bulk, he looked as innocent as a child. When she sat down on the bed beside him, he woke up with a snap, eyes sharp and alert. He took in her tearstained face and sat up.

“Mehr. What—?”

“I made a mistake, Amun.” She swallowed. “A very bad mistake.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

She told Amun everything. He listened in silence. It may have been her imagination, but as she talked, the sigils on his skin seemed to brighten, faded blue growing a deep and livid indigo. When she finished speaking, he was breathing hard. His jaw was clenched tight.

“Amun,” she said finally, tentatively. “Amun, what—”

“Get off the divan.” His hands were fists. “Please, Mehr.”

She got up. She made her way slowly, warily away from the bed to the edge of the room.

“You want to hurt me now, Amun?” A dark pit opened in her stomach. She felt cold. The water hadn’t been enough to clear her head, but Amun’s anger was a sharper shock than ice. She’d expected his anger, deserved it, but she could still hardly stand to see it. She remembered the Maha’s fists and flinched internally. “I can hardly blame you.”

“No,” he snapped. “Hurt you? No.” He lowered his head, chin to chest, breathing deep and harsh through his nose. Then he looked up. “My vows are just growing hard to bear.”