“I am the one who is honored,” Mehr said demurely, lying through her teeth. “I am unworthy of the attentions of such a favored servant of the Maha.”

“You have been misled by my holy sister’s kindness. I am a lowly servant in truth.”

“Not so lowly, I think, if the Maha and Emperor have chosen to bless you with the gift of marriage,” said Mehr. “Unless marriage is a common gift granted to your kind? I had thought mystics were celibate, and dedicated to service.”

“We are whatever the Maha bids us to be,” Amun said. “But marriage is a unique gift. I am blessed.”

He didn’t sound like a man who considered himself blessed. Mehr could read nothing in his voice, nor in his lowered, shrouded face. He was a negative space, a void.

The mystic woman, Kalini, was beginning to frown. Her displeasure was much easier to read.

“You must consider yourself blessed too,” she put in. “To gain the Maha’s attention is a beautiful thing, Lady Mehr, a wondrous thing.”

“Yes,” Amun said. His voice was still colorless, his words careful. “You must consider what makes you special, Lady Mehr. You must consider what has set you apart and brought you to our illustrious leader’s notice.”

Kalini sighed. Mehr saw Amun’s fingers curl slightly against his knees.

“Do you have any questions for me, Lady Mehr?” Amun asked abruptly. “I will answer anything you ask as honestly as I am able.”

With Kalini’s eyes on her, she weighed her words carefully. She had to avoid giving insult or showing weakness. Soon her life would be entirely in the mystics’ hands. She didn’t want to give them any further reason to harm her than the simple fact of her blood already offered.

“I don’t know what questions a woman should ask a prospective husband,” she said finally. And she had no more time left to find out.

“Neither do I, my lady,” said Amun. “In this I cannot guide you.”

Mehr bit her lip. She considered her options.

“Would you be a good husband to me, if I chose you?”

“What makes a good husband, my lady?” he asked immediately.

Mehr was suddenly quite sure that if she could have chosen her own suitor instead of being drawn into the mystics’ net, she would have selected the kind of man who did not answer a question with a question. She wanted a truthful man, a straightforward one. She wanted someone who would not make a game of her life.

Nahira’s words rose up in her head, unbidden: A good choice for you would be a man who doesn’t enjoy wielding power over his people.

“Compassion,” she said. She shouldn’t have said it, but she couldn’t take back the word now. “I don’t know what a good husband should be, but I know I would like a husband who is compassionate.”