“I think I owe you a debt, Amun,” she said carefully. “You were honest with me about your vow, and about the vow I had made. You tried to be merciful.”
She heard him turning, heard the whisper of his clothes, his breath.
“It wasn’t mercy,” Amun said. “Mercy would have been finding a way to ensure that we never wed. It was—decency. Nothing more than that.”
“Then let me pay my debt with a similar mercy,” Mehr replied quietly. “Let me be decent to you. And honest.” She clutched her knees tighter to her chest. “You’re not as good at hiding yourself as you think you are, Amun,” she said into the darkness. “Your face, and your voice—in those, you hide your feelings well. But your shoulders. Your hands …” She trailed off, remembering his hands sweeping sigils through the air. “They reveal you,” she finished. “I see it, and I believe Kalini does too. No doubt your Maha reads you just as well.” Mehr swallowed. “You shouldn’t allow yourself to be so vulnerable,” she went on. “Not to me. Not to anyone. Weakness is a temptation. Give people the opportunity to use you, and they will, I can promise you that.”
Silence.
“Do you know what it is truly like to be used?” he asked.
There was no threat in his voice. Still, she shivered.
“I know I could use what I’ve seen to truly use you,” Mehr said frankly. “But I won’t.”
“Why?” He sounded honestly curious.
“Because I’m choosing to believe in your decency.” And if he proved her wrong, if he turned her leap of faith into a fall into darkness, then she would find a way to gain the upper hand on him again. She would find more weaknesses, more fault lines in his nature that she could leverage to her own purposes. She would do what needed to be done without regret. “I’ve chosen to repay your decency in kind.”
“I never asked you to do so,” he said.
“But I have.” Mehr shrugged.
She heard him sit up. Her eyes had adjusted a little, now, to the darkness. She could see the outline of his body—the breadth of his hunched shoulders, the tilt of his head.
“What do you want from me, Mehr?”
She felt light-headed now. Perhaps she had been a fool to talk to him without playing the demure maiden. She could have used her knowledge to build his trust in her slowly, to make him reliant upon her for kindness, for company, for affection. That would have been wiser. She had no other allies here, no one but him. If he turned against her, if he chose to distrust her, if he decided he no longer wanted to help her …
She tightened her hands into fists, pushing the panic away.
“I would like it,” she said, “if you continued to be decent.”
Amun said nothing.
“It’s a fair trade,” Mehr said evenly. “Honesty for honesty. Mercy for mercy. Tell me what the mystics want from me. Tell me why your Maha has gone to such great lengths to acquire me, and in return—I promise I will be someone you can trust. A friend, just as you’ve been to me.”
She saw him shake his head. Even in the gloom, she could see that.
“Your trade isn’t fair,” Amun said. “The mystics have absolute power over me. And you …” He let out a breath. “I have nothing to gain from telling you, and everything to lose.”
“Then why be merciful at all?” Mehr challenged. “Why defy your Maha and give me time before completing our marriage vow, if the cost for you is so high?”
“I just want you to recognize that this is no game,” Amun said in a low voice. “You can’t barter with the Maha’s people for power, and you shouldn’t try. None of us are worth trusting. You’ve told me not to show my own weaknesses. First you should follow your own advice.”
“Are you telling me not to trust you?” Mehr asked.
“I am telling you that I have lived all my life as the Maha’s creature, and I know what it means to serve. I know my own nature.” His voice was suddenly savage. “I know that if you look for goodness, you will find it is finite. If you trust me, I will betray you. That is what it means to be the Maha’s creature. That is what Ido.”
Mehr had seen his marks. She’d seen the way he obeyed Kalini, seen him banish a daiva, seen the feral bitterness in his face.You can’t trust a creature in a cage.This she already knew. She breathed deep and slow, feeling the weight of his seal around her throat. Her mark felt like it was burning against her chest, a deep cold pain.
“If your goodness is finite, then it seems I must make use of it before it fades,” Mehr replied. She was trembling. She had to resist the urge to step out of the tent and run until her feet failed her. “You’ve bought me a little time, Amun, just a little time before our vow is done and I am the Maha’s creature too. You have told me there’s no way to escape the vow.” A deep breath. “If I can’t avoid my fate, then at least give me the knowledge I need to choose how I spend my freedom. Tell me what the Maha wants from me. Not because I’ve bargained, not because I’ve used you. Tell me because you aregood.”
He let out a sudden, helpless laugh.
“You are a strange creature,” he said wonderingly. “A very strange creature.”
Mehr let out a breath. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t. This was just her body, her exhausted body reacting viscerally to the sudden break in his voice, that fall in gentleness. Her fingers uncurled. She felt an unraveling in her chest, as if she could breathe more easily. Even before he next spoke, she knew she’d won.
