Perilously close to defying the laws of faith was not the same as breaking them in truth, and threatening to revolt was not the same as actually doing so. That much was clear to Mehr. If the mystics had openly demanded that Mehr give up her right to choose her own husband, she was sure her father would have defied them openly in return. The angry whispers of the nobles might have bloomed into rebellion. A noblewoman’s right to choose her husband was far too sacred to be stolen, and if the mystics had attempted to do so, it would have been an insult not only to her father’s honor, but to the honor of all the nobility who held their women precious.

But the mystics had framed the marriage as an honor, a blessing from both the Maha and the Emperor. Their pretty words had left Mehr with a mirage of choice, and left the nobles with their honor bruised but not broken. There would be no rebellion from them.

“I hope you know this is not what I wanted for you,” her father said.

Mehr said nothing. Her father’s jaw clenched.

“I have arranged for a group of my most trusted men to accompany you across the border tonight,” he continued. “Maryam has family in Hara who will keep you safe. You will need to prepare swiftly—take only what you absolutely require.”

There was a beat of silence. “Do you have any questions for me, Mehr?”

Mehr looked at her father. He looked older, she thought. Just a short time in the company of the mystics had aged him. There were lines of tension etched into his forehead and around his eyes. His knuckles were white with tension. Desperation had stretched his strength thin. She wondered if it had thinned his good sense too. She was sure he hadn’t consulted Maryam. For all her faults, Maryam was no fool. She would never willingly defy the Emperor.

“Only one,” she said. “What will happen to you if you send me away?”

Her father finally looked at her. Mehr continued.

“The woman called herself one of the Empire’s own mystics. A mystic, Father. A servant of the Maha himself. What will happen to you if you disobey the Emperor and the Maha? What will happen to Arwa and Maryam?”

“You are my daughter,” he said simply. “You’re under my protection. I won’t allow them to have you.”

Arwa is your daughter too, she thought. And for all that Mehr hated her, Maryam was his wife. If he sent Mehr away, they would face the Emperor’s justice.

And the Emperor, Mehr knew, was not known for his mercy.

“This is unwise, Father,” she said.

Her father turned his eyes on her. His expression was full of a terrible, blinding helplessness that made Mehr’s stomach lurch.