“We know of your daughter’s blood,” said the woman. “It is no impediment. The Empire is vast, Governor, and the Emperor loves all his subjects. Even those with barbarian blood have their part to play.” The woman gestured at her own face, a smile still playing on her mouth. “I am not pure myself, Governor. But I serve, nonetheless.”

There was a beat of silence. Speak, Mehr thought. Speak.

Tell them I walked barefaced in the streets. Tell them I’m a disgrace. Convince them.

Please, Father.

“My daughter’s consent would be required,” Suren said finally.

“We would never violate an Ambhan woman’s right to choose the path of her soul,” the mystic said. “A chaperoned meeting will be arranged.” The woman bowed again. The other mystics followed suit. “We pray, most sincerely, Governor, that your daughter will find the Emperor’s choice suitable.”

In the furor that followed, a guardswoman quickly ushered Mehr and Maryam from the Lotus Hall and guided them to the Governor’s Study. No doubt she acted on Suren’s orders.

Two guards stood on watch at the doors. As Maryam paced the room in silent, seething fury, Mehr lifted her veil away from her face. Her clothes were too heavy. The walls of the study were closing in on her. She wanted to go outdoors and let the night air cool her blood. She wanted Lalita, and her rites, and the rosewater smell of Arwa’s hair. She wanted comfort. She didn’t want to think. Not yet.

“I told you to be careful,” said Maryam. Her voice sounded like it was echoing across a long distance. Mehr’s ears were still too full of the crowd to hear her. “You brought this upon us. You drew attention to yourself, threw yourself headlong into disgrace and now you’ve brought those monsters to our doorstep—did you even consider what the Emperor’s displeasure could do to us?—listen to me, Mehr!”

She grabbed Mehr’s hand. Mehr resisted the sudden, bubbling urge for violence. She wanted to rake her nails over Maryam’s skin like claws. She wanted a daiva’s ferocity and a daiva’s taste for blood. The hunger was painful; the rage made her mouth water. But Mehr did nothing. She simply let her stepmother hold on to her.

After all, Maryam was right.

“If you refuse this match you’ll murder us all,” Maryam hissed. The hate and fear blazed on her face like dreamfire in flesh. “Do you understand? Your father, your sister, all the servants—they will all die because of you. So for once in your life, Mehr, make the right decision. For once, do as you’re told.”

The door opened. Maryam released Mehr hastily and retreated to the corner of the room, her back turned. Her shoulders were shaking.

“Maryam,” Suren said gently. “My love. My apologies. I need to speak to Mehr alone.”