“Do you understand what removing your seal means?” Mehr asked.
“I do.”
“You want to pretend we consummated the marriage,” Mehr said quietly. Under her palm, the seal was warm from his skin. “Why?”
For a long moment Amun said nothing.
“A marriage is a twofold binding,” he said finally. “Soul and flesh. Until we consummate the marriage …” He lowered his eyes. “It would be better,” he said, “if the Maha believes he has absolute power over you, Lady Mehr, as he does over me.”
Mehr hadn’t resigned herself to being bound. She hadn’t truly accepted that it was true, scarred skin or no. Now the ground was shifting under her feet. She wasn’t sure what this meant. What he was offering her. She swallowed.
“I have the vow on my skin. Are you telling me I’m not truly bound by it?”
“It’s not complete,” he said. “You would know if it were. You’d feel it like another heartbeat.” A ghost of a smile on his lips, no joy in it. “You’d feel it burrowing.”
She covered her mouth and looked away. When she had control of herself—or a semblance of it—she turned back.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked.
“Did you want to marry me?” His gaze was intent. “When Kalini asked if you chose this match—did you want to be my wife?”
“No.” Mehr couldn’t hide the truth. She would still recant her vow if she could in a heartbeat.
“Having your will stolen from you is a violence, Lady Mehr. I chose my vows, but you …” He paused. Jaw clenched. “I don’t appreciate being used as a weapon against another human. A tribeswoman.” There was an old, deep anger in his voice. “I don’t appreciate being ordered to force myself on a woman.”
“I had a choice,” Mehr said, head held high. He wouldn’t,couldn’t, take that away from her. “I chose to protect my family. I accept the consequences of that.”
“A choice like a knife at your throat is an illusion,” Amun said bluntly. “Here is the choice I was given, Lady Mehr: to marry you and bed you, or face the consequence of breaking my vow. Unbearable pain, death, eternal suffering for what remains of my soul in the aftermath. Would you call that a fair choice?”
Mehr said nothing.
“I told you that I do as I’m bid. But I doonlywhat I’m bid. No more than that. I was ordered to wed and bed you, but I wasn’t told when to complete the bond.” Amun lowered his head. “I can’t save you from the Maha’s will,” he went on. “But I can give you time. Enough so we can grow comfortable with one another, before we are forced on each other. You understand?”
She understood.
This was as much a violation of him as of her.
She felt sick. She remembered her fear when he had lain down beside her last night. If he had been a different man—if he had been under the weight of a stricter vow—
But no. She wouldn’t think of it.
“My clothes,” Mehr said suddenly. “My—my wedding silks. No one will expect me to still be dressed. They’ll know we’ve lied.”
“Remove them, then. I’ll look away.”
“I can’t remove them on my own,” she said.
He frowned. “How did you put them on?”
“I’m a rich man’s daughter,” Mehr said, trying to hide her embarrassment. “I have servants to dress me. But wedding silks are always—unusually complicated.”
She must have seemed utterly useless to him. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her, and decided she probably wouldn’t want to know.
“Tell me what to do.” His face was blank, but the unease practically rolled off him. It did nothing to put Mehr at ease.
She directed him to unclasp the loops of cloth that bound the back of her robe together. To be forced into even this small intimacy with a man seemed ridiculous to her. Torturous.
“I can do the rest on my own,” she said. He let go immediately and walked away from her, arms crossed. Mehr slid the first layer of silk off, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. She clutched the cloth to her chest.
