He let out a breath. He wouldn’t have relented if he hadn’t just seen Mehr beaten, Hema’s throat cut. He wouldn’t have. But Mehr had found his weakness, small as it was. He was not the Maha. He was not a monster. His conscience was her ally.

Bahren let out a long, slow breath. “I don’t want to be here either. Know that, Mehr.”

“Then don’t be,” she said wretchedly. She lowered her hands. Looked at him with eyes she knew were red, wet. “Please, Bahren.”

A long silence. Finally he said, “I’ll wait at the bottom of the stairs. Come morning …” A huffed sigh. “For all our sakes, do your duty, girl.”

He didn’t wait for her to thank him. He strode out of the room. She heard his footsteps on the stairs, and then silence. He’d settled down to wait. For Mehr to do her duty.

She rubbed her eyes dry. Walked over to the door and softly closed it. She turned back to the bed. Amun lay unconscious, forehead bruised, his sigils still so livid they shone in the flickering light. She sat on the edge of the bed and brushed one dark curl away from his wound. He murmured, turning into her touch. Trusting as a child.

A memory flashed before her eyes: Hema’s throat cut. Hema falling.

She snatched her hand back and stood. She went over to the window, leaning out to meet the cold night air. She was dizzy, and the sky was whirling with stars.

Gods. There was nowhere left to run, was there?

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

At first she wasn’t sure if Amun would even wake up before dawn. Fighting the Maha’s orders had drained his strength severely. He lay on the bed, still and gray and hurt, silent for hours. She feared for a while that she would have to seek out Bahren and ask for a physician to be sent. But eventually he began to move fitfully in his sleep, eyelids flickering as he struggled against harsh dreams. Then she began to wonder if he’d wake with the same dead-eyed stare he’d had when the Maha had laid down his orders. The idea filled with her dread.