“Maha,” Kalini said. Her voice trembled. “I beg you. Please, no.”

“The blade, Kalini.”

“Maha—”

Abhiman swore a sharp oath. Mehr turned just in time to see him snatch the blade from Kalini’s grip. He bowed to the Maha and handed him the hilt before stepping back to stand again at Amun’s back. The Maha gave a faint nod of thanks.

“Kalini,” the Maha said gently. “You are my most faithful servant. No taint from this will touch you.”

“Maha, my lord, please. When my sister and I joined you, you promised we would be safe.” Kalini sounded wretched. “We both love you above all things.”

“You love me, that I don’t doubt. But your sister has not shown me her love as she should have. I am sorry for your loss, Kalini,” he said gently, kindly. When Kalini said nothing more, he turned his attention back to Hema. “Stand and turn away from me, child.”

Hema’s gaze finally drifted to Mehr. But she looked right through her, her eyes full of uninflected terror. She stood, shaking, and turned. “Kalini,” she said. Her voice was small, so small.

“Maha,” Kalini said in a strangled voice.

“Kalini, it is my love for you that takes this responsibility out of your hands,” he said soothingly. “Stand down, before I change my mind and ask you to prove your love.” He waited. Kalini was silent again. The threat had stoppered her. “Close your eyes, if it makes matters easier,” he suggested.

Then, without further ceremony, he raised the blade and cut Hema’s throat.

Hema didn’t die instantly. That was the worst of it. Mehr watched Hema sway for a moment, as if the shock held her steady; she watched Hema raise her hands as if she thought, somehow, she could stem the bleed. There was silence in the hall, utter silence, but even if there hadn’t been, there would have been no way for Mehr not to hear the choking noise Hema made, as she tried to breathe, tried to scream, and failed at both. Mehr would remember that sound for the rest of her life.

She watched Hema crumple to the ground. It took her a long time to realize the noise had stopped, and longer still to feel the hot wetness of the blood pooling around her knees.

“This punishment was not for you, Mehr. But I hope it teaches you a lesson,” the Maha was saying. His voice sounded like a faraway thing, an echo through water, even though he was walking closer to her, breaching the barrier of blood between them. “The Empire expects loyalty from its people. Disloyalty must have a price.”