“No,” Amun said sharply, keeping his voice low. “You don’t want to touch it yet, my lady.”

“Why not?” Mehr asked. Her voice was a furious whisper. “What just happened?”

“Not here. Finish this first.” The cloth rustled around them, the chanting continued, and Mehr didn’t move. “Finish this,” he repeated. “Lift your veil, and we can be done with this farce.”

“You first,” she said. He glared at her. “I deserve to see your face. Surely I have earned the right.” A beat. Mehr clenched her hands tight. “Do you want to stand here forever, husband? Because I promise you I won’t relent.”

Beaten, Amun reached for the cloth around his face. The deft removal of one knot allowed it to fall, pooling around his shoulders. He raised his head in the dim light and let her look at him.

Mehr’s breath caught.

Dark skin. Dark eyes. She should have guessed. When she’d seen his dark hands—dark like her own—she should have known.

If she had seen his face before—those distinctive features, the high cheekbones, the fierce shape of the jaw, the full mouth, all strangely like her own features yet not at all—she would have known what he was in an instant.

Amun was Amrithi.

There were marks on his cheeks. She thought they were scars at first, but when he turned his head they gleamed blue in the light, and she wasn’t sure anymore.

He reached for her veil and lifted it up just long enough to see her face. Then he let it fall back into place.

“Mehr,” he said in a louder voice. “My wife.”

Now that he had acknowledged the marriage, the ceremony was done. The gold cloth lowered around them, allowing the sound of muted cheering to pour in. They were married.

The feast was strained. The nobles present attempted to put on a good show, but Mehr was too nervous to do more than pick at her food. Beside her, Amun ate nothing.

As the night dragged on and the men drank more spiced wine, the feast grew louder and merrier. Mehr and Amun were left to sit in their own sea of silence. Mehr’s chest itched, still tingling even though the original burning pain had passed. It was hard to resist touching her skin or the seal itself, but she held fast.

Finish this, he’d said. So she would. She would get through this. Then when they were alone, she would demand her answers.

But the night stretched on and on. The noise of the guests was growing unbearable, and Mehr could feel Kalini’s eyes on her, constantly assessing her. When Mehr thought she could stand it no longer, Amun rose. He held his hand out to her. Mehr let out a shuddering breath and took it.