One of the mystics must have succeeded in warning the Maha, because Abhiman stood in the entrance of the Maha’s chambers, waiting for them, his hand on the scabbard of his scimitar. When he caught sight of Mehr, his grip visibly tightened. “She’s here, Maha,” he said. He stepped back, allowing Bahren to shove Mehr forward into the room.
The Maha was standing at the balcony with Kalini by his side, watching the storm fall. As Bahren released Mehr, leaving her to stand alone in the center of the room, the Maha turned to face her. His expression was calm. His face was not simply riven; his skin was paper-thin, brittle with more age than a human body should have been able to carry. His hand on the edge of the balcony trembled faintly. But it was his eyes that revealed the true extent of what the storm had already done to him. They were black, deep black, the irises clouded and shattered beyond repair. Mehr shuddered at the sight of him. As he looked at Mehr, the brokenness within those eyes only seemed to deepen.
No doubt he could feel, just as Mehr could, that the bonds that had tied them together were broken. Mehr could sense only the barest shadow of his terrible strength, an echo of what Amun could feel passed to her through the vows they’d made to one another. Her bond to Amun ached, oh, it ached—but it reminded her, too, of why she had to be strong. It reminded her that she wasn’t the Maha’s creature any longer.
The Maha stared at Mehr silently for a long moment, an ugly tightness forming around his eyes, threatening to tear his skin clean. Kalini placed one hand on her own scabbard, and the other gently on the Maha’s arm. Her gaze on Mehr was just as flat and unwavering. It took Mehr one long, absurd moment to realize the Maha was waiting for her to kneel.
“Maha,” she said instead. “I have come to bargain.”
Behind her Abhiman snarled and strode forward. She felt him grip her arm roughly, raising the other to strike a blow. Heart hammering, Mehr forced herself not to look away from the Maha’s face. “Will you risk seeing your last weapon with a sharp edge become dulled, Maha?” she asked.
His nostrils flared. “Stop,” he ordered Abhiman. “Leave her for now.”
Abhiman paused, then released her and stepped to the side.
The Maha kept his eyes on her, as if he were afraid that if he looked away she would vanish in a puff of smoke. “So,” he said. “You think you can bargain with me?”
“I do,” Mehr said.
He took one painfully slow step toward her, pain pinching his features. Mehr watched as Kalini’s hand tightened on his arm, holding him steady. Kalini was looking up at him, her eyes full of fervent light.
“Vow yourself to me again,” the Maha said, “and you will suffer no more than you deserve.”
“I know what you think I deserve,” Mehr said calmly. “My answer is no. I have no interest in being beaten for your pleasure.” She took a step forward and watched Abhiman’s hands curl into fists from the corner of her eye. “The dreamfire will fall soon, Maha. And if you want its strength, you must bargain with me.”
“Don’t be foolish, Mehr.” The Maha’s voice was a rasp of silk. “Vow yourself to me,” he repeated. “Do what you know is right. Think of the Empire. Think of your family. Consider the consequences of your betrayal on the ones you love.”
“I have made a sacred vow that leaves no room for you,” Mehr said. She closed her eyes, just for a moment. Long enough for her to envisage that golden thread tying her and Amun together, that circle with no end. She felt the distant echo of a heartbeat and thought,I am here, Amun. I’m here. And I will be strong for you. “I made a vow in love, and I will not undo it for anything or anyone. But I will bargain. Will you listen, Maha?”
The Maha looked over her shoulder. He made a gesture, and Mehr felt a blinding pain shoot through her skull and her spine as Abhiman wrenched her arms high behind her back with one hand and took hold of her hair with the other. Fear, she knew from experience, made pain infinitely worse. But at least this time she was not the only one who was afraid. The Maha was afraid too, terrified that his power was slipping away from him. So she would be brave, brave—
Abhiman’s hand closed around her throat. Mehr couldn’t scream. She couldn’t breathe. He was pulling her hair harder and harder. The air went white around her.
She almost vomited when he released her. She crumpled to the floor, holding herself up with a palm against the cool marble.
“Will you have him beat me now?” Mehr asked, her voice raw and pained. “Don’t be a fool. You can’t afford to damage me.”
Light reflected on the marble, bright and deep. Mehr raised her head. “The dreamfire is falling,” Mehr rasped. “You’re running out of time.”
“Your vow,” the Maha said. His voice trembled.
“You know what will happen if the rite isn’t performed, even if your mystics do not. The Gods will awaken. Their nightmares will tear the world apart.” She coughed hard, fixing her eyes on his face. “You will fall. The Empire will fall. Your Emperor will fall.” This seemed to hit him the hardest. His shattered gaze flickered, a hundred points of pain. “The world will fall.” She rose to her feet, looking at their stricken faces through the ringing haze of her own pain. “Bargain with me or break me,” she snarled. “Those are your options.”
The mystics were silent. They watched her. Watched the Maha.
“Speak,” he said.
“I will perform the Rite of the Bound alone, without a partner to dance alongside me. I’ll keep the world whole. I will do this task of my own free will, although it is anathema and threatens to destroy me. I will not fail.” She said this calmly. “And in return you will release Amun from his vows. You’ll let him walk away free and whole.Thatis my bargain.”
The Maha looked at her. A smile bloomed on his face.
“You did not have to come to me, to attempt to perform the rite,” he said softly, as if he had her in his snare again. With his power over her restored, his fear abated visibly. The broken light in his eyes grew. “You could have tried to perform it alone, far from this place, but you came to me because you are a weak and foolish creature after all.” He leaned forward, into the support of Kalini’s hand. “You came for him.”
“I did,” said Mehr.
“If you refuse to vow yourself to me, if you refuse to obey me, he dies too,” the Maha said, in the same slow, gentle voice. “Everything dies.”
“I am not as much a fool as you think, Maha. I know. But I also know his heart. He would rather die than remain with you. If the world is the price, well.” She swallowed. Raised her head high. “I will have his freedom, one way or another.”
