“I vow that I trust you. That I will keep trusting you,” she said tentatively. “I vow to … to continue seeing you as the man that you are, not what other people have tried to make you.” A deep breath. “I vow to know you.”

He slumped a little further. Afraid he would collapse, she ran to his side and caught hold of him. But he wasn’t falling. He turned in her arms, pressed his forehead to her own, as if her body gave his strength. She felt his breath soften as his pain eased. His fingers touched her face, light as dust. She shivered.

“I vow …” A laugh. “I want to vow not to harm you, but how can I do that?”

“You promised true vows,” Mehr said quietly, measuring her words as best as she could. “You can’t promise to protect me from the Maha, or from the mystics. But you can vow that you will never choose to hurt me. You can vow that.” She touched his face in return. “I trust you. More than anything, I’m sure of that.”

He let out a breath. A smile shook his face.

“I vow to be the man you trust,” he said softly. “Choices and all.”

Their mouths met. The touch felt sharper somehow, like the harshest midday sunlight concentrated in the press of their lips, the touch of their fingertips. Then his hand was in her hair, and her body was arching into his, consumed by the fall of his shadow, the shaking strength of him.

“I vow to love you,” he whispered, when they parted. “Always.”

“You can’t vow that,” she told him.

“I can,” he said, low and reverent, and kissed her again.

She noticed how her touch flushed the pain from his body, restoring his strength. He moved easily back to the bed with her, never quite letting her go. His touch was gentle, a question in every brush of his fingers. Like this? Or this? She took his wrists in her hands, strangely sure of herself, despite her hammering heart. With her guidance, he slipped off her tunic, her shawl, leaving her bare to his eyes and touch.

“Oh, Mehr.” His voice was full of light.

She hadn’t been ashamed of her own skin before coming here, before her body had been marked indelibly as property. She felt some of her new shame fade at the look on his face, all wonder and want. She felt exhilarated, unafraid, even as his sigils glowed, even as the Maha’s compulsion ran through his blood.

To be unafraid—that was a choice too.