The flat of the blade pressed a shade harder against Mehr’s skin.
Mehr looked Kalini hard in the eyes, not blinking, never letting her gaze waver. This was an awful thing. Another awful thing, on top of so many others. Frankly, Mehr had had her fill of them. So she stared into Kalini’s eyes and did not flinch from what she saw in front of her. Kalini was hard and full of hatred, and she wanted to kill Mehr. There was nothing Mehr could do to stop her.
But Mehr was not afraid. She didn’t have the strength for fear any longer. Even that had been rubbed away, leaving her bare and empty and silent inside.
“I’m sorry,” Mehr said, her voice quiet but even. “I should have listened to you. But what will you do to me now?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Kalini said. Her voice was flat. “Foolish girl.”
“I understand the significance of the knife at my throat,” said Mehr. “What I don’t understand is who you want to punish. If you want to punish me, then murdering me is hardly worthwhile.” She thought of Hema’s death, of the agony of the Maha’s soul beneath her skin, of the dark night and the endless litany of prayers and dance that there was no escape from anymore. She thought of Amun’s voice, when he’d told her that he’d thought of taking his own life. She held that despair close and let it shine through her eyes, so Kalini could see it,believeit. “My life is a nightmare, sister. Release me from it, and my spirit will thank you. It is the Maha who will be hurt. Hurt by your betrayal, and by the loss of one more Amrithi.” Mehr smiled, a hard smile. “You must know we’re a finite resource. You procured me, after all.”
“Don’t speak of the Maha,” hissed Kalini, wildness in her eyes. “You foul his name with your mouth.”
“Kill me if you want to punish him,” Mehr went on doggedly. “Kill me if you want to hurt your God and your Empire. Don’t let yourself believe you’ll be punishing me, Kalini. I will diethankingyou.”
“You liar,” Kalini said, vicious, eyes wet. “You viper.”
Mehr leaned forward, a calculated risk. She felt the blade nick her skin but didn’t waver.
“Do it,” she said. “Or don’t. I no longer care.”
Kalini didn’t move for a very, very long time. Finally her hand began to tremble. She dropped her blade.
“Rot in your cage, then,” Kalini said. She spat in Mehr’s face. “I hope she haunts you. I’ll pray for it when the next storm falls. Glory to the Empire and my sister’s blood on your soul.” Her lower lip began to tremble.“Animal.”
Kalini snatched up her blade and strode away. Mehr waited until she’d vanished, then sucked in a shaky breath and wiped the saliva from her face.
When she returned to the training hall, Amun paused his practice, one hand still upraised in the shape of a rite. There was a question in his eyes.
“You were quick,” he said.
“Kalini was called away,” Mehr said with a shrug, conscious of the guard watching them. “I suppose I wasn’t needed after all.”
Mehr saw some of the tension ease in Amun’s shoulders. His eyes softened. He thought she’d been saved from the Maha’s presence. He thought she’d returned to him safe and sound.
The way he feared for her made her heart hurt. She smiled at him, pushing away the memory of Kalini’s blade. She hadn’t been afraid then. She wouldn’t let the fear touch her now either. She would stay clean and empty and pure, and save them both from hurt.
“Come, Mehr,” he said, holding his hands out to her. She took them. “We can practice a little longer, then.”
She didn’t tell Amun. Perhaps she should have. But when they returned to their room, he lit the oil lanterns except one, then turned to the divan and began determinedly tugging off the bedding. She watched him, silently bemused.
“Amun,” she said slowly. “What are you doing?”
“Could I have your shawl?”
She handed it to him and watched as he used it to knot the blanket to the divan, hooking the other end to the edge of the unused lantern hook. “I don’t understand what you’re doing,” she said.
He looked at her, his dark eyes still so very soft.
“We’re building a tent,” he said.
“No, you’re building a tent. I’m just watching.” A beat. “Whyare you building a tent?”
“For fun, Mehr.” Very seriously, he beckoned her closer. “Come in here. Bring the pillows in with you.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Mehr said. But she did as he asked.
Inside the makeshift tent the light of the lanterns was softened to a glow. Mehr could see nothing but Amun’s silhouette. She curled up on the pillows next to him. “I did something like this with my sister once,” she said. “We pretended we were in our own little house. She played mother.”
