“My mother believes the Maha will find another gifted Amrithi to replace me,” Mehr continued calmly, refusing to let him sway her. “But he hasn’t, and he won’t. I know my mother fears I’ll try to return to him because of my vows, but that isn’t what you fear, is it?” She met his eyes, unwavering. “You fear what the nightmares of the Gods will do, without someone to control them. You fear me staying.”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” Kamal said, which was as good as a yes. “I do what my Tara bids. That’s all.”

“It does matter,” Mehr insisted. “You’re not wrong to be afraid. But I can make things better. All I ask is that you convince your Tara not to come here tonight. Tell her your clan needs her this storm. Please.”

“So you can sneak back to your master? No.” His voice was flint. But he didn’t walk away.

Mehr crossed the sand toward him. She gazed at him steadily, thinking of Amun, of the deep red of his pain as he suffered far beyond her reach. She thought of the nightmares, their flat eyes, their malevolence. She knew what had to be done.

“Kamal,” she said softly. “It’s in all our best interests that I go back to him.”

She stepped even closer, until she was looking up at him, raising her head to meet wary eyes. “The one who shared the burden of service with me is as good as dead, and if you fear the nightmares now, you have no grasp of how much worse they’re going to become.” Mehr didn’t blink. Didn’t allow herself to waver. “I know. I’ve felt them.”

Kamal still looked wary, but some of the brittleness was gone from his voice when he spoke again. “I don’t lie to the Tara.”

“Her heart is leading her astray,” Mehr said. “Her heart is lying to her. She loves me. She can’t help her nature. But you understand. You know what needs to be done.” Mehr pressed on. “Just tell her not to come. That’s all I ask.”

A moment passed. Another. Then finally, Kamal gave a small nod.

As he walked away, Mehr crossed her own arms, holding herself as if the day were cold instead of sweltering.

What am I doing?

Some part of her had known it would come to this. When her mother had told her the cost of her freedom—when the storm had fallen, and the daiva had whirled in their fury around her—she’d known.

Perhaps even before then. When she’d stood in the desert alone and told a distant Amun that she would come back for him, that she wouldn’t leave him bound alone and in pain to the Maha’s service. She’d rested long enough. It was time for her to finally face her reckoning.