Amun opened the front of his tunic without complaint. Kalini leaned forward, a crease forming between her eyebrows.

“It looks different from the others,” she announced.

“It’s a different kind of vow,” Amun said. Nothing disturbed the calm of his features. His voice was like glass.

Kalini looked at Mehr. “Now I need to see yours.”

No my lady this time, Mehr noted. She clutched the silks tighter to her chest.

Kalini raised an eyebrow. “Show me now or show me later,” she said. “But you will show me, I assure you. It is your duty.”

The maids were watching. Mehr wanted to refuse. But Kalini’s eyes were unblinking. There was something animal about her that made Mehr’s blood curdle.

Mehr lowered the silk, just enough to expose the mark. Then she lifted it again.

Kalini gave a satisfied nod, turning away. “The Maha will be pleased with you, Amun.” To Mehr she said, “You’d best prepare. We leave at sunset.”

Kalini left as swiftly as she had arrived, leaving deafening silence behind her. Mehr didn’t look at Amun, and didn’t look at the maids. Her face was burning.

“I’d like to bathe and dress now,” she said, with all the dignity she could muster. She stood, the maids surrounding her like a shield. “If you’ll excuse me, husband.”

She heard Amun’s soft footfalls as he left. She didn’t watch him go.

Once Mehr was dressed, Kalini began hovering over her like a constant, malevolent shadow. She directed the servants, ensuring that no finery was packed, just the bare essentials: tunics and trousers, one simple single-layered robe with a matching sash and shawl, and a few sturdy boots. Whatever Mehr’s new life would consist of, it clearly wouldn’t involve the need for jewels and silks and beaded slippers.

There was no opportunity to give anyone a proper farewell. Under Kalini’s watchful eye, her father embraced her, but there was no comfort in it.

“Take care, daughter,” he said. He brushed his knuckles over her hair. Mehr nodded, squeezing her eyes shut to hold back unwanted tears.

“I will, Father.”

Kalini gave Mehr a robe like the one all the mystics wore.

“Put it on,” she said. “You’ll need it in the desert.”

Mehr slipped it over her head. The material was thick—no doubt good for blocking out both the sunlight and the cold. She drew a length of cloth around her head, trying to mimic the way Amun wore it. She didn’t succeed but her face, at least, was covered.

Kalini guided her out of the women’s quarters. They joined the other mystics and made their way out into the city toward the desert. No one spoke. The mystics surrounded Mehr in a ring, concealing her, simultaneously shielding and caging her. Amun stood to her left. He didn’t look at her.