“Apparently we do,” Bahren said tiredly. “Come quietly, boy. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

They were marched through the corridors. Abhiman didn’t lead them to the Maha’s private chambers, as Mehr had expected and dreaded. Instead they were led to the Prayer Hall.

Without the usual throng of mystics at prayer, the hall seemed somehow vaster. Beneath the statue of the Emperor stood the Maha. He watched as they approached. His fractured eyes glowed in the glare of the torchlight. In the emptiness of the hall there was nowhere to hide from him.

Mehr reminded herself to remain calm. As Abhiman shoved her forward, she forced herself to look beyond the Maha. Kalini stood at the edge of the room, half her face cloaked in shadow. Two women kneeled at the Maha’s feet. Hema, with her face to the floor, identifiable only by her short, curling hair. And Anni.

Abhiman forced her to a stop, his hand a vise on her wrist. Mehr stumbled over her feet.

“Show some respect,” Abhiman said. His voice was full of disgust. “Kneel.”

Mehr kneeled. Amun was thrown to the ground beside her. She bowed her head and waited.

“Come closer and kneel by your sisters, Mehr,” the Maha said. His voice was terrible and gentle. There was an undertone to it that made her mark burn cold with fire. She sucked in a sharp breath and stood, moving to kneel by Anni’s side. The Maha was so sure of being obeyed that he didn’t give her a second glance. His eyes were fixed on Amun.

“I have been given some news that has made me unhappy,” he said slowly. “Can you imagine what news that was, Amun?”

“I think so, Maha,” Amun said. His voice low. Mehr didn’t dare turn back to look at him. All her focus was on the Maha, standing before her, his hands clenching and unclenching on nothing but air.

“Well then, Amun. Tell me this. Have you fucked your wife?” The ugliness of the words made Mehr flinch. His voice was so soft, so terrible. “This isn’t a question I should need to ask you.” A beat. “Have you? Speak.”

Amun said nothing. Mehr could hear nothing but Hema’s breathing, shallow and overloud in the vast quiet. She clenched her own hands, heart hammering.

“The longer you wait, the more your vows will hurt,” the Maha said. “I am not averse to hurting you, boy.”

The Maha nodded. He leaned down and offered Anni his hand. She took it and stood, trembling. She didn’t look at Mehr. She didn’t look at Hema.

“You’ve done me a great service, daughter,” the Maha said. He kissed her forehead. “A great service, and one you will be rewarded for. But for now, you may go.”