The nobility mourned ostentatiously. In villages and cities across the Empire, its citizens, noble and common alike, buried faceless statues of the Maha and Emperor as one in graves and wept, and wept, and wept. There were rumors that the Maha had not died at all—no matter what wild-eyed mystics claimed—and the Emperor had put a handful of the Maha’s own beloved Saltborn to death for reasons no one had yet been able to explain to Mehr or to the elders. Nightmares and daiva had begun to appear beyond Irinah’s borders. An Amrithi man who’d lived for a number of years in Jah Irinah told Mehr, once, that soldiers had been sent into the desert to retrieve the body of the Maha, but none had returned.

Mehr had thought of Abhiman’s death and asked him no more questions.

Even without scraps of news to guide her, Mehr would have known that the Empire was in tumult. The faith and law had been torn asunder. The strength the Maha had blessed the Empire with was fading. And yet, for all the Maha had done to her for the Empire’s sake, Mehr couldn’t be glad, not entirely, not when so many would suffer the consequences of the Maha’s choices. Not when her own family lived in the Empire. Not when she loved the Empire still, despite herself.

But the Empire’s fate—thank the Gods—was out of her hands now.

When the meeting ended, Mehr’s mother took her hand. “Come with me,” she said. “We should speak alone.”

They walked out onto one of the balconies facing the oasis. Mehr could see Amrithi below, trying to make sense of the irrigation surrounding it. She leaned forward to watch them and saw her mother’s eyes focus on the ribbon around Mehr’s throat, the lazy shift of her marriage seal against the faded cloth of her tunic.

“The man,” Ruhi began hesitantly. “Your fellow—servant …”

“Amun,” Mehr said. “His name is Amun.”

“Amun,” she agreed. “Amun has been helping the sick and the young settle. The elders like him. I’ve been told he’s a neat mender of clothes.”

“He is,” Mehr said, feeling a tug in her chest. It wasn’t the bond. It was just pure affection.

“He’s a gentle soul,” Ruhi said.

“I know,” Mehr said. “Mother, what are you trying to say to me?”

“If you don’t want to see him,” her mother said carefully, “you won’t need to. No more than that. There will be clans who choose to leave here when they feel safe to do so. He could be encouraged to go with one of them.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to see him?” Mehr asked. “You said it yourself, Amun is a good person.”