Amun’s prediction turned out to be correct. The maids arrived not long after with a morning meal, and took in the sight of Mehr’s state of undress with obvious pity. Kalini arrived soon after, striding past the guards at the door and the maids, giving Mehr only a brief, sidelong glance before turning her attention on Amun.
“Show me,” she ordered.
Amun opened the front of his tunic without complaint. Kalini leaned forward, a crease forming between her eyebrows.
“It looks different from the others,” she announced.
“It’s a different kind of vow,” Amun said. Nothing disturbed the calm of his features. His voice was like glass.
Kalini looked at Mehr. “Now I need to see yours.”
Nomy ladythis time, Mehr noted. She clutched the silks tighter to her chest.
Kalini raised an eyebrow. “Show me now or show me later,” she said. “But youwillshow me, I assure you. It is your duty.”
The maids were watching. Mehr wanted to refuse. But Kalini’s eyes were unblinking. There was something animal about her that made Mehr’s blood curdle.
Mehr lowered the silk, just enough to expose the mark. Then she lifted it again.
Kalini gave a satisfied nod, turning away. “The Maha will be pleased with you, Amun.” To Mehr she said, “You’d best prepare. We leave at sunset.”
Kalini left as swiftly as she had arrived, leaving deafening silence behind her. Mehr didn’t look at Amun, and didn’t look at the maids. Her face was burning.
“I’d like to bathe and dress now,” she said, with all the dignity she could muster. She stood, the maids surrounding her like a shield. “If you’ll excuse me, husband.”
She heard Amun’s soft footfalls as he left. She didn’t watch him go.
Once Mehr was dressed, Kalini began hovering over her like a constant, malevolent shadow. She directed the servants, ensuring that no finery was packed, just the bare essentials: tunics and trousers, one simple single-layered robe with a matching sash and shawl, and a few sturdy boots. Whatever Mehr’s new life would consist of, it clearly wouldn’t involve the need for jewels and silks and beaded slippers.
There was no opportunity to give anyone a proper farewell. Under Kalini’s watchful eye, her father embraced her, but there was no comfort in it.
“Take care, daughter,” he said. He brushed his knuckles over her hair. Mehr nodded, squeezing her eyes shut to hold back unwanted tears.
“I will, Father.”
Kalini gave Mehr a robe like the one all the mystics wore.
“Put it on,” she said. “You’ll need it in the desert.”
Mehr slipped it over her head. The material was thick—no doubt good for blocking out both the sunlight and the cold. She drew a length of cloth around her head, trying to mimic the way Amun wore it. She didn’t succeed but her face, at least, was covered.
Kalini guided her out of the women’s quarters. They joined the other mystics and made their way out into the city toward the desert. No one spoke. The mystics surrounded Mehr in a ring, concealing her, simultaneously shielding and caging her. Amun stood to her left. He didn’t look at her.
It wasn’t until they reached the desert itself and began making their way across uneven, shifting ground that Mehr realized they had no transport. No palanquins, no horses, no howdahs on elephant back. Wherever they were going, they were traveling there on foot.
Hours passed. The sky darkened and the city receded behind them. Mehr was thankful for the cool nighttime air, if only because there was precious little else about this journey to be thankful for. The ground was growing even more uneven, the sand rising in thick waves of deceptive depth. Her dancing had made her stronger than the typical noblewoman, but it hadn’t prepared her for anything like this.
Without warning, her foot sank deep in the sand and stuck fast. As she stumbled forward, a hand caught her arm and steadied her.
“It will get easier,” Amun said in a low voice. As soon as she’d righted herself, he let go of her. “The desert has its own laws. Once we’re farther from the city, you’ll see.”
He was right. Long after Mehr had passed the point of exhaustion, when Jah Irinah had dwindled into nothing behind them, the desert … changed.
Mehr couldn’t pinpoint the difference at first. But slowly walking became easier, her footsteps consistently meeting solid ground instead of rolling sand. Mehr looked around her. As far as the eye could see, the sand was still thick and uneven, near impassable.
The desert has its own laws.
Mehr looked down.
