Mehr could see the same doubt in the eyes of some of the other Amrithi. She understood that her mother spoke not only for herself but for her clan.

“She has saved us all,” Amun said, his voice rich with utter conviction. He looked at them with clear, cloudless eyes. “Tara, Mehr has ensured that no one will be bound to the terrible service the Maha demanded ever again. No one will wear the scars I wear. She is nothing like him. I know, better than any living creature, that she is the best of us. She is hope.”

“The daiva wouldn’t surround her if her path was evil,” one of the Amrithi said. A woman, her face weathered, her hair pure silver. “She acts with their blessing.”

“They have asked me to keep the balance,” Mehr said to her, to them all. “And that is what I have chosen to do.”

In response to her words, the daiva swirled up around her—somewhat ostentatiously, Mehr thought sourly. Still, a symbol was a symbol, and the joy growing in the eyes of the Amrithi was desperately beautiful to see.

“All I ask,” Mehr said to her mother, as the daiva settled around them, “is that you don’t try to stop me.”

Her mother took a step forward, then another. In one swift motion, she kneeled.

“I am thankful, beyond thankful, that you have risked your own soul in order to save us all.” Her eyes shone with barely contained emotion. She looked up at Mehr with a face that was all feeling, fierce and broken with love. “We owe you a debt of gratitude, daughter. We can never hope to repay it.”

The Amrithi behind her touched their hands to their foreheads, their chests, in a gesture of respect. Mehr almost wept again at the sight of them.

Her mother stood. “I am so glad you’re safe, Mehr,” she said softly. “I was so afraid you were lost to me.”

“I’m here,” said Mehr. “I’m whole.”

She felt it when Amun’s hand released her own. Her mother embraced her, held her tight, and Amun walked toward the other Amrithi. She saw him murmur something about food and shelter to the silver-haired woman, and then he was gone. Just another robed figure in the crowd.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Dear Arwa, Mehr wrote.

It’s been so long, little sister. I hope you are happy. I miss you. Do you miss me?

I have a good life now, better than I once hoped for. One day I’ll tell you all about it, but I’m sure you’re having adventures of your own now …