Mehr pressed her back against the wall. Amun gave her a thin, pained smile before lowering his head again.

“Oh, Amun,” she said softly.

“Don’t talk,” he managed to say. “Just for a moment. Please.”

Mehr waited, and waited, barely daring to breathe.

“So,” he said, once his breathing had grown more even. “One of the mystics knows.” He looked up. “I’m not angry, Mehr. I knew this was inevitable. Our chances were always slim.”

“We don’t have to lose hope yet,” Mehr said. She couldn’t stand the bleakness of his eyes.

“We have a little hope,” Amun observed, his voice flat. “If she doesn’t speak before the storm. If we manage to break our bonds during the storm, which is unlikely … Mehr, you must see, there are too many ifs.”

Mehr swallowed. There was no question that Hema would speak, only a question of when she would. Mehr knew it just as well as Amun did. Hema was far too loyal, far too faithful to the Maha, to keep Mehr and Amun’s secret.

“I’ll tell her I—I lay with you. I’ll tell her I did my duty.”

“You think you can lie to her now?” His expression was far too knowing. She had the awful sense that he could see right through her.

Lying to Hema would be nothing at all like lying to Maryam or maidservants or her father. In her father’s household, she’d lied to ensure her small freedoms. She’d lied to save herself from punishment, or for the sake of power. She’d understood that nobility valued many things more highly than truth: their status, their honor, their own pride.

But Hema and the mystics valued nothing more highly than their honesty to the Maha. And Mehr had never lied to save a freedom as vast as the fate of her own soul.

“I’ve lied before,” she said thinly. “I can lie again if I need to. Besides, this is my error. I can try to make it right.”

“Not all mistakes can be made right, Mehr.” It would have been better if Amun had sounded angry. He didn’t. He sounded like he’d expected this all along.

Frantic thoughts ran through Mehr’s head. She thought of suggesting that they ask Edhir when the next storm of dreamfire would fall. She thought of running out and seeking Hema, begging her for silence. But all of that was foolish. All of it was pointless. Mehr could not make her mistakes right. They were going to lose their freedom, and Mehr was responsible for it.

She leaned more heavily back against the wall and closed her eyes. Her head was racing; she felt cold and sick in body and soul. She heard Amun get up from the bed and cross the floor.