“Fine, fine, no killing. But …” Kamal raised a hand to his head, massaging the groove between his eyes as if the entire situation pained him physically. “A blindfold. We’ll walk her away and let her go. That’s all I can offer, Lalita, and far more than I should.”

Lalita shook her head, mouth pursed.

“We can’t let her go.”

“She’s the Maha’s creature.”

“Maha’s creature or not, she’s Ruhi’s daughter.”

That stopped him short. He gave Mehr an unreadable look, then drew his hood down over his face and walked abruptly away.

Lalita took Mehr by the shoulders.

“Ah, Mehr,” she said, her voice choked. “I am so sorry, dear one. If I had known, I would have warned you.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Mehr said gently. She touched Lalita’s shoulder in return. Behind Lalita, she could see the Amrithi watching her with wary eyes.

“There is a place—an outpost—near here. You’ll be safe there for now.”

Mehr nodded, slowly. Then she said, “Lalita. Why did you mention my mother’s name?” Mehr asked.

“Because Kamal—the others—they belong to her clan, Mehr.” Lalita said the words gently enough, but they still dropped through Mehr like a stone. “Your mother is here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Perhaps the veiled daiva hadn’t been there to take her to her final rest after all. Trudging after the Amrithi, blinded with a cloth that Lalita had tied carefully around Mehr’s eyes, Mehr only knew for certain that the ancient had been a harbinger of a great change in fortune. After months of living to a set routine of prayer and rites and service, her life free from the Maha’s control was a whirlwind, a storm within a storm. She felt adrift. Only Lalita’s hand on her arm, gently guiding her forward, kept her tethered.

“We’re here,” Lalita said. She didn’t say where, or what, here was. But Mehr heard the heavy rustle of cloth, felt the ground change from giving sand to the firmness of pinned fabric, and knew they had entered a tent even before Lalita removed the blindfold from her eyes.

The tent was a low construction, barely tall enough for Mehr to stand without stooping. Its fabric was the same dun color as the world around it. It was likely easily concealed; from a distance, it probably looked like no more than an eddy of sand. It was a clever construction, but clearly not the home of all the Amrithi. It was barely larger than the tent she’d slept in, alongside Amun, on her journey to the temple.