If she wanted to leave the household quietly, she would need help.

She slipped through the marble corridors on light feet, barely breathing, trusting that her dancer feet would know how to move softly. She made her way to the nursery.

She was in luck. Sara was leaving Arwa’s chambers, her arms full of clothes. Mehr held a finger to lips, bidding her to be silent, and gestured at Sara to follow her.

When they were alone, she asked, “Have you used the blood?”

“Yes, my lady,” Sara said. Her eyes were dark and watchful. Perhaps she knew what was coming. “Is that all you wanted to ask, my lady?”

Mehr shook her head.

“I am sorry, Sara,” she said. She drew the hood of her robe over her face; dark netting covered her view of Sara’s stricken expression in a dim haze. “It seems I’ll be needing that favor far sooner than I expected.”

Because of the double-edged sword of her status, Mehr knew very little about the world beyond the women’s quarters. But Sara did. She guided Mehr swiftly away from familiar chambers into the winding passageways of the servants’ quarters. Here there was no marble. The walls and floor were bare and windowless, the corridors lit by torches. The farther they walked, the more strongly Mehr could smell the scent of the kitchens, a rich odor of burnt oil and spices.

“This way,” Sara whispered. She gestured at Mehr to follow her.

They crept down a staircase and came to a barred door. “We receive deliveries here,” said Sara. When she caught Mehr’s questioning look, she went on. “Supplies, my lady,” said Sara. “For the kitchens.”

Of course. With so little food able to grow in the desert, Jah Irinah relied on imports from more fertile regions of the Empire. Mehr knew that. What she hadn’t considered—had never thought to consider—was the need for a delivery entrance near the kitchens, and its usefulness to her as an exit from her home. She’d never thought about it because she’d never had to.

She grimaced inwardly at her own ignorance. Despite her best efforts, she knew so little.

No more. Tonight was a step in the right direction: out of the comfort of known things into the whirling, terrifying chaos of the light.

Together they hoisted the bar holding the doors shut and lowered it to the floor, struggling to muffle the sound of metal clanking against stone. By the time they were done, they were both breathing heavily. Under her heavy cloak, Mehr’s skin was covered in sweat. She ran a hand over her forehead, staining her knuckles with red and black ash.

“Please don’t make me go with you,” Sara said quietly. Her jaw was firm, her eyes hard with desperation. No matter what Mehr said, she would not go. What lay beyond the door terrified her more than Mehr ever could.