“Don’t try to lie to me,” said Kalini. “The Maha told me what to look for. She’s learning too slowly.”
“She’s learning far more swiftly than I ever did,” Amun replied.
“You had years to learn. She has days,” Kalini said. Her gaze cut to Mehr. Her voice was pure ice. “You need to do better. The Maha demands it of you.”
“I’ll be prepared,” said Mehr. “I know my duty. You can tell the Maha so.”
“Tell him yourself. You’ll share dinner with him tomorrow night.” She gestured at Bahren, who stepped forward. Mehr hadn’t thought it possible, but somehow the older mystic’s face had become even grimmer. “Tonight Bahren needs your assistance.”
Amun hesitated, then stepped away from Mehr, walking to Bahren’s side. He stilled as soon as he heard Kalini speak again. “I’ll send the girl to meet you in a moment.”
“I can do it alone,” Amun said sharply.
“You’ll finish the job more quickly together.”
“I don’t need her help.”
“Sweet as your efforts to coddle her are, your wife shares your burdens. She made a vow. Like it or not, youwillhave her help.”
“Come on,” Bahren muttered. “We have work to do. Stop this.”
Amun looked at Mehr, indecipherable emotion flickering through his midnight eyes. Then he turned and followed.
Mehr had no idea why Kalini wanted to be alone with her, but she didn’t think any good could come from it. She wanted to cross her arms, to cower back as if her own strength could give her safety. But she stood straight and tall, folding her fear away for another time. She couldn’t defend herself, not here under the Maha’s thumb. But she could try to hold on to the tatters of her pride.
“I hear you’ve been neglecting your husband and spending your time with kitchen maids,” Kalini said.
Mehr said nothing. It was no secret, surely, that Hema and her friends had cultivated a relationship with Mehr.
“You’re going to leave my sister alone.”
Mehr took in a deep, slow breath. She should have known this was coming.
“As the Maha wills,” she murmured.
“Iwill it. And if you defy me I will personally ensure that your life is as unpleasant as possible.” Kalini’s voice was even, but her eyes were fierce and cold. “I hope we understand each other.”
Mehr nodded, clenching her hands tight.
“Answer me,” Kalini demanded.
“Yes,” said Mehr thinly. “I understand.”
Bahren had a set of knives. They were not Amrithi blades, but they were sharp and clean, doused with medicinal alcohol and wiped dry with cloth by Bahren in Mehr and Amun’s presence. Mehr listened without surprise as Bahren told them that they would need to cut their own flesh and mark all the most important chambers of the temple with their blood.
She should have anticipated that this service would be expected of her. Unlike the Ambhans of Jah Irinah, the mystics knew the power of the daiva intimately. They would want to keep the strongest of the daiva—the amorphous ones, not quite as powerful as the humanoid daiva of the past or the young animal-spirits of the present—away from their home. What better tool to keep them at bay than the blood of their pet Amrithi?
They didn’t have to ask for Mehr or Amun’s consent. They didn’t have to barter with them, as the Irin had once bartered with the Amrithi clans who drifted near their cities and villages. They could simply take. After all, Mehr and Amun had made a vow.
“I don’t mind,” Mehr told Amun, who was visibly unhappy, his shoulders hunched and his jaw tight.
“I do,” Amun said shortly. But after that he kept his feelings to himself, obeying Bahren’s directions in sullen silence.
Mehr really did not mind, at first. She reasoned that she would at least have the opportunity to find out exactly where the most important chambers in the temple were. Any knowledge she could gain during the night would be a worthwhile price for a bit of stolen blood. Amun had consistently refused to discuss escape since the first time Mehr had raised the possibility of it, but Mehr still carried the seed of hope within her. She held on to it as they began to move through the temple, marking the windows with their blood.
But the temple was huge, and to Mehr it soon began to feel as if every single empty hall, every storeroom or empty unshuttered window was considered important. The cut on the soft skin of her inner elbow stung from being constantly reopened.
It felt like a long, long time before Bahren declared that they were done. He gave Mehr and Amun cloth bandages to tie around their cuts to stem the blood, then told them to return to their room.
