The pain raced through her, fierce and all-consuming. But she resisted the urge to wrench her hand away from her scar. She clung on instead, letting the pain deepen its claws into her blood and her bones. It was Amun’s pain, and it should have been Mehr’s burden as much as it was his. She let it consume her, until she was floating in a red sea of agony, until she could feel every subtle element of his suffering: the conflicting weight of his vow to her and to the Maha, stretching him thin, clawing him apart; the way his pain went beyond flesh to the place where his soul lived.

There was nothing Mehr could do to save him.

Finally she wrenched her hand away and found herself curled up on her side on the ground, gasping for breath. She climbed laboriously up onto her knees and wiped her streaming eyes.

Oh, Amun. Amun. How long could he possibly survive, suffering as he was? There was no possibility that he would be able to perform the Rite of the Bound when the next storm came. Mehr was not even sure he would live to see it.

One thing, at least, was clear: If nothing changed, the Maha would soon have no Amrithi in his service at all.

LALITA

Lalita

Would you really send a tribeswoman back into the great monster’s grip?” a woman named Sohaila asked, disbelieving. “Jabir, elder, I never thought you would betray a fellow Amrithi. I’m ashamed of you.”

“I never said I would send her back,” the elder blustered. “I said someone may want to send her back. It’s very different.”

“I don’t see how. I don’t see—”

“Some people,” Jabir cut in loudly, “might be worried what terrors the world will suffer if the Maha doesn’t have one of our own to perform his rite. Some people might consider one girl a price worth paying.”

“Why don’t you hand yourself to him, then?” Sohaila countered.

“I don’t have the amata.”

“Then I don’t think you’re in a position to comment.”

“Daughter, calm yourself,” another woman said, placing a gentle hand on Sohaila’s shoulder. “And Jabir, no one is handing a tribeswoman, never mind the Tara’s very own daughter, to that monster. Be serious.”

“Agreed,” said another. “But I do fear that allowing the girl to join the clan would be premature, nonetheless.”

A murmur of agreement ran through the circle of Amrithi who surrounded the communal fire. In order of seniority, elders sat close to the warmth of the flames, with the youngest and newest members of the clan at the very edges. Lalita sat at the outer limit of the circle, wrapped up tight in both a heavy robe and a shawl tucked about her shoulders. She listened.