“Yes, Maha.”
“Blood first,” he told her. “The rite should always be a last resort.”
Kalini lowered her head, chastised. The Maha placed his fingertips against her forehead, at the same spot where he had pressed his lips. Mehr saw Kalini’s shiver. The sight made her stomach knot.
“Go now. I wish to speak to your new sister alone.”
Kalini bowed again, forehead to the ground. Then she stood and left.
The Maha turned his sharp eyes on her. Mehr was uncomfortably aware of her bare face, and of the ache of the mark on her skin.
“How do you like my temple, Mehr?” he asked. His voice rolled over her like a storm. She felt the mark flare to a biting pain. She sucked in a sharp breath and saw that kindly mouth twitch.
“It’s like nothing I have ever seen, Maha,” said Mehr. Careful words were required, she thought. “A holy place indeed.”
“It truly is,” he answered. “Look out there.” He swept a hand out in the direction of the oasis. “An oasis so vast and fruitful shouldn’t exist in such a desert. But this marvel thrives because our prayers ensure that the Gods dream a world that is kind to us. The Gods bless our Empire with good fortune. The world turns its tide in our favor, over and over again.” He looked at her. “Do you know how Durevi was won, Mehr?”
“No, Maha,” Mehr said. Durevi was the newest province of the Empire, but so distant from Irinah that Mehr had never paid its fate much heed. Her father’s household had celebrated its conquering—there had been prayers, and sweets—but she knew no more than that. “I am sorry, Maha.”
The Maha ignored her apology and curled a hand around the balcony’s edge, his eyes still fixed on Mehr’s face. The longer she looked at him, the less human his face appeared. There was a light within it: a glow that came from beneath his timeless flesh, as if his skin were a lamp concealing a flame.
“By prayer,” he said. “My mystics prayed fervently for the success of our army and the destruction of the Durevi royals, and the Gods blessed us swiftly. A wave of sickness came over the army. The royal family were consumed by madness and took their own lives. Our men entered the kingdom unchallenged, and Durevi was won. Now it is part of our Empire, blessed by order and civilization, and thankful for it.” He laughed then, softly, as if he had amused himself.
The sound—ah. There was no denying the power his voice had on her now. She could feel it under herskin.
He carried on in the slow, soft voice of a man speaking to a particularly ignorant child. “You will not understand this, child, because you have been born in my Empire blessed by glory and grace, but there is only so far that an army can extend its supplies, its weaponry, its men. There is only so far it is possible for one ruler to expand his territory. The Empire has surpassed those limits, time and time again. All empires fall, Mehr, butmyEmpire will not. Do you understand why?”
She swallowed through the knot of fear in her throat and fixed her eyes on the oasis, grateful for the opportunity to avoid the Maha’s piercing face.
“Prayer, Maha,” she said, forcing the words out. “Because of prayer.”
Mehr could hear the smile in his voice. “Indeed.”
Mehr remembered what her father had said, when she’d asked him why he feared the mystics.
Ah, Mehr! I have seen cities put to death at their word. I have seen plague and famine and slaughter fall on men at their whim.
She had not doubted him, and yet …
She hadn’t expected the Maha to be as he was, human and yet entirely inhuman. She hadn’t expected the feel of his power, the sound of his voice, the terror deep inside in her bones.
“That is how we serve,” the Maha said. “Our prayers bring blessings to the Empire. Our prayers turn our enemies to dust. Truly, there is nothing more holy than service.”
She felt the Maha come to stand beside her and tried not to flinch away. His physical closeness made bile rise in her throat.
For a long moment he stood by her quietly, watching the wind sweep the surface of the water. Then he said, “How do you like your husband?” Without missing a beat he spoke again, his voice casual, conversational. “Look at me, Mehr.”
She felt the mark flare hotter. Felt herself tugged, like a puppet on strings, to do his bidding. Invisible hands coaxed her head to turn to his. Ice ran through her veins.
She could have resisted. The compulsion wasn’t all-consuming. But the shock of it made her turn unthinking, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She looked up at the Maha with wide eyes, unable for an agonizing moment to hide her fear.
He saw it. She knew he saw it. He’d ordered her to look at him for one reason alone: to show her what he could make her do. Tomakeher fear.
“Do you know why I dislike veils, Mehr?” He waited. Mehr stiffly shook her head, not looking away from him, compelled to obey. “I dislike them because they are so often used to conceal the truth. You, for example, child. You were hidden from the world by veils and walls. They concealed your nature from my many eyes. They kept you from service to your Emperor and your Maha. And what is service, child?Tell me.”
“Holy,” Mehr said dully. She felt her jaw work, felt the compulsion thrill its way up her throat like fire.
“Veils kept you from holiness,” he agreed. “When you left your veils and walls, when you left your father’s home and entered the storm that graced your city, you revealed yourself. I have eyes in many places, Mehr, who seek truth for my sake. Praise the Emperor that they found you. Praise be, that you revealed the full strength of your blood.” He smiled at her. “Because you stand before me as you do, unveiled and in service, I do not need you to tell me what you think of your husband. I see the truth of it burning in your eyes.”
