“Quiet, Lalita,” Ruhi said sharply. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t remain silent. I must speak for the clan.”

Lalita stepped forward into the fading light. “The price of keeping Mehr safe is too high,” she said to Ruhi. “The clan, the desert—even this forsaken Empire—must come first. She must return to the Maha.”

Lalita looked at Mehr with a face wet with tears. “You’re a good girl, Mehr,” Lalita said softly. “Brave and good, as I’ve always known you were.”

Mehr’s mother stood still and silent, looking at Mehr with a face so full of raw feeling that it hurt to gaze upon it. Ruhi stood strong for a long moment, ever the survivor and soldier—and then Lalita placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and she crumpled into tears, her resolve shattered.

“Go, Mehr,” Lalita said. “Go now.”

Mehr hesitated for a moment. Her mother had her hands over her own eyes, as if she couldn’t bear to look at Mehr, as if Mehr were already lost to her. Mehr forced herself to turn and walk away.

“I love you,” she said. She didn’t know if either woman had heard her.

She walked for a long, long time, until the sky was black and pricked with fractured stars. She walked into the pain of her bond with Amun, listening to the discordant song of his agony.

When she finally turned back, she saw nothing but empty desert behind her. She was alone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

It wasn’t long before the storm began to brew in earnest, faster and fiercer than ever before. Dreamfire bled across the sky, swift as spilled ink on paper, its jeweled edges tinged with darkness. The daiva were everywhere, their black shadows flitting wildly across the sky and beneath the cover of sand, their howls filling the air. They no longer seemed interested in keeping their distance. More than once she felt them brush against her body, more solid than they’d ever been before, or shift the ground incautiously beneath her feet. She did her best to ignore them. When she stumbled, she simply straightened and kept on walking.

She couldn’t allow herself to think too deeply on the dangers surrounding her. She didn’t want her resolve to waver. Instead she focused all her energy on the fierce tug of agony inside her chest, using it to guide her forward, closer and closer to the source of her pain, the wound in her heart. When she closed her eyes, she could almost see the thread binding her and Amun together, drawing her inexorably toward the Maha’s temple. She clutched her marriage seal with one hand, tracing the marks he’d carved there. Thinking of him gave her the strength to go on.

I’m coming, Amun. I’m coming. Please, survive.