There was no time to think about the letter after that. The household was in chaos. There was simply not enough time to plan a wedding, even one that had been reduced to nothing but its bare bones. From the murmurs of the servants, Mehr knew that a feast was being planned, suitable entertainment was being arranged, and the Lotus Hall was being decorated in fresh flowers, sourced by some miracle despite the withering desert heat.

Her father may have said that there would be no music or dance, but this was the wedding of the Governor’s daughter. All the noble guests—and there would be guests, despite the short notice—would expect the Governor to provide a respectable celebration in honor of his daughter’s marriage. The servants understood that. They recognized the unspoken expectations of his station, and their own.

Mehr’s station gave her the privilege of taking no part in the preparations. She sat in her room, worse than useless, as the maids fussed over her. All she could do was wait and wait, agonizing over what was to come.

Nahira took it upon herself to make the experience infinitely more difficult by hovering over Mehr with all the ferocity of a tiger protecting her cub. The seamstress arrived to fit Mehr for a hastily made bridal robe, and Nahira nearly made her stab Mehr with a needle by scolding her until she was a nervous wreck. The maids came with questions; Nahira sent them scattering. Mehr tolerated all of this. But when Nahira began explaining what happened between a husband and wife in the marriage bed in extensive, excruciating detail, Mehr found that she’d reached her limit.

“I know what men and women do,” Mehr snapped. “Gods, Nahira, Lalita was—is—a courtesan. She told me enough.”

Nahira huffed, making low sounds under her breath that didn’t sound particularly complimentary.

“Is my hearing going?” Mehr said. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Nahira gave her a level look. Then she said in a clearer voice, “Your father should have told you about that. Not her.”

Mehr shuddered. “I’m glad he didn’t. I can’t imagine a conversation I’d like less.”

“If Lady Maryam hadn’t left, then she would be the one sitting here telling you about the marriage bed.” Mehr grimaced and put her face in her hands. Nahira patted her shoulder. “There you are. It could always be worse.”

After that Nahira was quieter, perhaps aware now of how fear had altered her behavior and made a fool of her. The quiet left Mehr far too much room to think, and she regretted having snapped at her old nursemaid. There was nothing Mehr could have done to alleviate Nahira’s worry except allow her to fuss, and she had even denied Nahira that comfort. But Mehr hadn’t wanted to think of her wedding night, and Nahira had forced her to do so.