She had to go back. For his sake. For her own. For everyone’s.

“My choice,” she whispered. “This is my choice.”

Mehr waited until the desert had just begun to cool, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, then left the safety of her shelter. She walked away from the shelter, her boots sinking into the sand, which shivered and clung to her as if it didn’t quite know how best to behave. A heartbeat of time passed. She heard a voice call her name.

“Mehr. Stop.”

She turned, throat tight, and saw her mother. Ruhi rose from the ground where she’d been kneeling, waiting for Mehr, hidden by her dun-colored robe and her own careful stillness. Behind her stood Lalita, her own face tight with grief.

“Where are you going?” Ruhi asked.

“I’m sure you already know,” Mehr said.

“Did you truly believe Kamal would lie to me, Mehr?”

“I hoped he would do the right thing.”

“He did.” Ruhi’s voice was a terrible, soft thing, full of love and pity. “He obeyed his Tara. He kept you safe.”

Ruhi pushed her hood back from her face and walked toward Mehr. “Come with me,” she said. Her eyes were liquid dark, her face gentle. “Please, Mehr.”

“I have to go back,” Mehr said, resisting the urge to step away from her mother. “You must see that.”

“Your vows are misleading you,” her mother said. “You don’t truly want to return to the Maha.”

Of course Mehr didn’t want to return to him. The thought of him turned her knees to water, made her blood run cold. But her wants and her fears changed nothing. “It won’t be long until the dreamfire falls,” Mehr said, struggling to keep calm in the face of her mother’s gentleness. “I need to go now. The price of me remaining here is far too high. You must see that.”

“I told you he would find someone to replace you,” Ruhi said, with the sureness of hope. “Most likely he already has.” Ruhi took one of Mehr’s hands between her own, holding on to her gently, her expression earnest with love. “You would not have spoken to Kamal if you didn’t want to warn me. You want me to stop you.”

“No, Mother,” Mehr said. “No. I’m leaving. I have to.”

Ruhi’s grip tightened into a vise that made Mehr wince.

“I can stop you, Mehr. I will if I must.” A beat. “Please, daughter. Don’t make me do this.”

Mehr looked at her mother. The veil of gentleness had fallen away to reveal the iron that lay beneath it, a desperation so pure and fierce that it took Mehr’s breath away.

“You don’t have the right,” Mehr said.

“I’m the Tara. I protect the clan. I protect you.”

Mehr swallowed. “The best thing you can do for the clan is let me go.”