“You were a child,” Mehr whispered. “When you made your vows to the Maha … you were just a child?”

“The Maha told me if I made my vows he would spare my father pain. He said he would show him mercy. I learned from the Maha how to tell a lie with truth.” A pause. Another harsh breath. “He killed him fast. It was mercy of a kind. But not the one I wanted.”

All the stories he’d told her of his life before the Maha, all the careful absences in his stories, suddenly made sense. He’d told her he was young and foolish in his early days in the temple. She hadn’t thought he’d meant that he’d been nothing but a child, tricked into service by a Maha who had used his fear for his father’s life to bind him.

Amun had been compelled, just as she had, by the need to protect someone he loved.

Just a child. Oh, Amun, she thought.

His breathing had grown ragged. He was shaking. “Let me go, Mehr. Go.”

“I can’t,” Mehr said. “Bahren is waiting at the bottom of the stairs.”

“I expected him to be in this room.”

“I asked him to leave me some dignity,” Mehr said. “As an Ambhan noblewoman. But he will still be waiting.”

Amun shook his head. “Mehr,” he said despairingly. Then he fell silent.

“Amun,” she murmured, ever so soft. She wished, distantly, that she’d let the lanterns gutter. Maybe darkness would have made this easier. “Amun. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said. Deep breaths, sharp with pain. “Mehr, I … I’ve asked myself. So many times. When the vows hurt. When I was alone. Would I turn my blade on myself if I could? If I weren’t vowed …”

“Amun,” she whispered again.

“I was never—sure,” he said, forcing the words out through his pain. “I thought—no. I couldn’t. But Mehr, I know now. I would rather die than hurt you.”

Tears pricked her eyes.

“I’m not even a little afraid of you hurting me. You’ve tried so hard …” She swallowed back tears. “You were trying to buy us time. And you did. You have.” She covered their joined hands with her own. “I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever known. All will be well.”

“I thought time would be enough. But that was before I knew you.”

“And now you know me?” Mehr asked softly.

“Now …” He exhaled, shaky. “I think about the boy I used to be. I think about what kind of man he would have become, if the world had been kinder. If the Maha hadn’t found him. That man would have … he would have courted you. In the Amrithi way. He would have told you how he admired you, for your strength—your beauty. Your heart. He would have left his clan for yours.”