“There’s to be a trial,” says Kosru. “The commander’s not happy about it happening so close before we have to leave and all.”

Murmurs of acknowledgement all around, as my food loses its taste. What now? Do I continue with the plan? Will they harm her? Certainly, they’d treat her better than the war prisoners, wouldn’t they?

“Enough,” says Walgash, cutting over the conversation. “Show the commander more respect. No more discussion of his daughter over dinner.”

The chatter dies down, and men return to their food, chastened. Walgash sneaks a glance at me, and I know that he stopped the conversation for my sake—or rather, for the other Dineas’s sake. Guilt twists in my gut. I don’t want to be indebted to him.

Don’t do me any good turns, Walgash. Because if you stand in my way tomorrow, I will still have to kill you.

Chapter Forty-five

Mehtap and I don’t speak the rest of the day. It’s hard, because we are in such close quarters, but somehow we manage. An umbertouched guard comes in several times a day to bring us food or change our waste bucket. Otherwise we’re alone.

Arxa finally arrives the next afternoon.

“Father!” Mehtap runs to the door of her cell.

The general takes her hands. “Have they mistreated you?”

Mehtap shakes her head. “They’ve mostly left us alone.”

“And you, Zivah? How do you fare?”

I’m aware of Mehtap’s eyes on me. “I’m unharmed as well.”

Arxa turns back to Mehtap, his face tight with anger. “The nerve they have to make accusations like this. I’ll speak to the emperor and see what can be done.”

He doesn’t even ask Mehtap if she’s guilty. Why should he? The idea of Mehtap doing such a thing is unthinkable. I do wish I could get a better sense of whether he suspects me, but even if he does, I don’t think he would confront me in front of his daughter.

He continues to talk to Mehtap for the better part of an hour. Mehtap’s words echo in my mind. Let him love me when I die.

Finally Arxa readies himself to go. “I’ll do my best to end this soon,” he says to Mehtap. “Until then, conduct yourself in such a way as to bring honor to our house.”

I imagine a needle sewing my lips shut. I feel the prick of every stitch.

After he leaves, Mehtap turns to me. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

I look at the naked relief in her eyes, at the childlike face that can do no wrong. And there is nothing to say.

Chapter Forty-six