“I’m your mother.” Ruhi’s voice wavered. “I can’t sacrifice you. I won’t let you go. It’s too much.”

“This is my choice,” Mehr said.

“Mehr, I can’t allow you to do this.”

“And what right do you have to decide for me?” Mehr demanded. Suddenly she was furious. Furious at her mother for loving her too much, far too late. Furious at herself for standing here, wasting time and courage when there was so much yet to be done. “You left me. You gave up your right to control me a long time ago, and you can’t have it back.” She wrenched her hand back, and this time her mother’s grip faltered and released her.

The silence that fell was sudden and bitter. Her mother looked stricken.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Mehr said, pained, as she rubbed her wrist. “I don’t want to be angry at you.”

“But you are,” her mother whispered.

“How could I not be?” The words—all the words she had held back so carefully, for the sake of building the fragile peace growing between them—began to pour out of her. “Father used me and Arwa as a weapon against you, and instead of fighting him you left us behind. You chose to leave us. Arwa was a baby. She doesn’t even remember you. I missed you more than I can say. I still miss you. I miss the mother I had, the mother I dreamed would come home to me.” Mehr’s voice cracked. “Of course I’m angry. I’m angry that I have been caged and sold and failed by the people who were supposed to protect me. I’m angry because I love you still, despite everything, and I want you to let me go.”

She wouldn’t fail Amun, as she’d been failed. She would save him. She couldn’t allow anyone to stop her.

“I don’t want to be angry at you, Mother,” Mehr said, chin held high. “But I don’t regret it.”

She saw the moment the blow struck. Saw her mother straighten.

“You have a right to your anger,” her mother said. Her voice was wooden, heavy with hurt. “But it changes nothing. I only want you to be safe. I always have. If you can’t resist your vow, I’ll resist for you. I’ll do what’s needful to protect you from yourself.”

Mehr’s stomach fell.

“No,” said Mehr. She took a step back, and her mother followed her.

“I don’t want to have to restrain you,” Ruhi said, her jaw firming. “But I will if you don’t come with me now.”

Mehr’s own hands curled into fists. Her blood was pounding in her ears.

Even now, her mother didn’t trust her. She thought Mehr was a puppet on long strings.

“Ruhi,” Lalita said. “Please.”