“I’m here, Amun,” she said, speaking into the air. “I’m here. Look what you’ve done. You’ve managed a miracle. You’ve set me free.” She took a step into the pain. Another. “I don’t know what made you take the risk. But Gods help me, I’m glad you did.”

It was hard to resist the urge to walk back to him. She thought of him still in the grips of the Maha, surrounded by mystics who hated him, crushed by the vows to her he’d obeyed and the vows to the Maha he’d defied. She took hold of her marriage seal, holding the circle tight in her hands. Then she gathered up her will and forced herself to turn away from the way back to him.

“Wait for me,” she whispered. “Survive, Amun. I’ll come back for you. Somehow, I will.”

That day, Mehr used the lessons she’d learned from her first journey from Jah Irinah to the Maha’s temple. When the sun was nearing its peak, she sought out shade and slept in snatches. When she grew thirsty, she used a little strength and performed the Rite of Fruitful Earth, snatching new green life from the earth, eating it fast to catch its moisture. She tried not to think about what she would do when true thirst and hunger inevitably came for her. She’d spent so much of her time at the Maha’s temple preparing for survival after her escape, and now all her careful planning had gone to waste.

The desert hadn’t been like this when she’d first traveled through it with the mystics. The sands had been clear and arid under a glaring blue sky. Now, with the storm still spinning, dying away, every surface seemed to be a trickery woven out of shadows and light. She couldn’t trust her senses. More than once, she found herself walking in circles, drawn back to where she’d been hours earlier by the movement of the sand.

The storm had misled her so utterly that when she saw the shadow of a man through the dust, she thought it was no more than another mirage and kept on trudging forward. Then the shadow stepped forward into the light, boots crunching against the ground, and she realized the man was no illusion after all.

The man froze when he saw her. Under the hood of his robe his eyes widened visibly in his deep brown Amrithi face. He hadn’t expected Mehr any more than she’d expected him.

Mehr moved first. She turned, breaking into a run. More figures emerged from the air around her. Until that moment, their brown robes had hidden them from sight. She stopped sharply, realizing with despair that she was surrounded. There was nowhere to go.

“Don’t harm me,” she said, holding her hands out, palms open. “I have no weapons.”