She stretched her muscles, moving through familiar motions to warm her limbs and her blood. She manipulated her hands, shaping the ghosts of sigils on her fingertips. She was barely prepared to begin when she realized Amun was approaching.
She felt him long before she saw him. The golden thread binding them hummed with the warmth of him. It wound tight within her. She touched her fingers reflexively to her marriage seal. When she looked up he was there, watching her.
“Amun.”
“Mehr.”
He walked toward her. He was wearing a new pale robe. His face was still a little hollowed from his illness, but his scars were silver shadows, only an echo of the vows that no longer held him fast. He looked whole and alive, and Mehr could only drink the sight of him in.
“I hoped you’d be here,” he said. “I’ve struggled to find you alone.”
“Have you?” Mehr wondered if her mother had run interference, and cursed inwardly. “I thought you were the busy one. You’ve been making friends,” Mehr noted, her tone gently teasing. “I never thought I’d see the day, but I’m glad of it.”
“It’s good to be among people I may one day trust,” Amun said.
“One day?”
“Give me time.”
She looked him over.
“Where did you get those clothes?” she asked. His hair had grown a little longer, she noticed. Her fingers itched to reach up and push one errant curl back from his face.
“Someone gave them to me.”
“I gathered,” Mehr said dryly. She found she couldn’t help but smile. “You look nice.”
Amun smiled back at her. It lit up his face and warmed her like pure sunlight. “Kamal gave them to me, before he left.”
“He must have liked you.”
“No. I think he felt sorry for me.” The possibility didn’t seem to bother Amun.
For the first time, he looked at ease in his own skin. It was as if the breaking of his vows had literally left him lighter.
“I thought you might go with him,” Mehr admitted.
“I considered it,” said Amun.
Mehr traced an idle circle in the sand with her foot. She didn’t want to look into his face any longer.
“I told you,” Mehr said. “I told you that you should do whatever you want to do. You could have gone. Seen the world.”
“I don’t want to see the world, Mehr.”
“Don’t stay here for my sake, Amun, that’s all I ask.” She hated how it left her feeling flayed bare, speaking to him so. “Don’t stay just because …”
“Mehr?”
“Just because I want you to,” Mehr admitted.
Amun strode toward her. When Mehr took a step back, shaking her head, he froze.
“Don’t,” she said.
“I know you fear what I may say,” Amun said, his careful eyes tracing the contours of her face, reading it as if it were paper. “But I want you to hear me. Will you let me speak, Mehr?”
Mehr nodded.
