Amun raised his head. Mehr found herself staring into eyes the color of a moonless night, deep and dark.

“Then I will do all in my power to be a good husband to you,” he said.

She reminded herself to speak—once, twice. Her heart had leaped strangely.

“And what do you expect from a wife?” she asked. Not kindness, surely. “I know what is expected from the wife of a nobleman, but I know nothing of the life of a mystic.”

“I have been told Ambhan women share their husbands’ burdens.”

“Yes,” Mehr agreed.

“Then you would share my burden,” he said. “And my burden is service. To the Maha, and to the Emperor.”

All the human feeling absent from his voice was tucked in those eyes. He stared at her, unblinking for a long moment. Was there a warning in his gaze? She didn’t know. She couldn’t be sure. She wondered if he knew she was staring directly at him, unblinking herself, her heart in her throat.

“Our service is holy. Our prayers are vital to the Empire,” Kalini said. Mehr looked at her. For a split second, she had almost forgotten the woman was there. “Our prayers ensure that the Gods show the Emperor and the Empire the favor they rightly deserve. It is a truly glorious burden, Lady Mehr.”

Prayer, service—those words meant nothing. Kalini was not trying to help Mehr understand what lay in store for her. Her intention had been to sever that momentary connection between Mehr and the male mystic, and she had succeeded. Amun had lowered his eyes.

“I imagine it is,” Mehr managed. She wanted Amun to look at her again. She said, “Amun, do you have anything to ask me in return?”

Amun did not look up.

“I have some questions for you, Lady Mehr,” Kalini said. She smiled. Her smile said: You will not win this fight. “I know my request breaks protocol, but if your father permits …”

Suren’s face was a stiff mask. He nodded, once.

“What happened to your mother?” Kalini asked.

“She was exiled by my father when I was ten years old.”

“Why was she exiled?” asked Kalini. The woman leaned forward. “Was she a traitor to Ambha and our Emperor? You must answer me honestly, my lady.”

“Nothing so dramatic,” Mehr said, keeping her voice even. “I was young, Mystic, but I know my mother was unhappy living in Jah Irinah. She wanted to leave the city and return to the desert.” Mehr tried to feel nothing. It was the only way she could continue. “She rejected my father and the comforts the Empire had graced her with, despite her blood. So my father did the only thing he could to protect his daughters from the taint of her choices, and forbade her from ever returning.”