Mehr kneeled. Amun was thrown to the ground beside her. She bowed her head and waited.
“Come closer and kneel by your sisters, Mehr,” the Maha said. His voice was terrible and gentle. There was an undertone to it that made her mark burn cold with fire. She sucked in a sharp breath and stood, moving to kneel by Anni’s side. The Maha was so sure of being obeyed that he didn’t give her a second glance. His eyes were fixed on Amun.
“I have been given some news that has made me unhappy,” he said slowly. “Can you imagine what news that was, Amun?”
“I think so, Maha,” Amun said. His voice low. Mehr didn’t dare turn back to look at him. All her focus was on the Maha, standing before her, his hands clenching and unclenching on nothing but air.
“Well then, Amun. Tell me this. Have you fucked your wife?” The ugliness of the words made Mehr flinch. His voice was so soft, so terrible. “This isn’t a question I should need to ask you.” A beat. “Have you?Speak.”
Amun said nothing. Mehr could hear nothing but Hema’s breathing, shallow and overloud in the vast quiet. She clenched her own hands, heart hammering.
“The longer you wait, the more your vows will hurt,” the Maha said. “I am not averse to hurting you, boy.”
“No.” Amun’s voice was strangled. Every word was ripped from his throat. “No. I have not.”
The Maha nodded. He leaned down and offered Anni his hand. She took it and stood, trembling. She didn’t look at Mehr. She didn’t look at Hema.
“You’ve done me a great service, daughter,” the Maha said. He kissed her forehead. “A great service, and one you will be rewarded for. But for now, you may go.”
“Thank you, Maha,” Anni whispered. She bowed again—deep and low, pressing her forehead to the floor—then turned and left as fast as her legs could carry her.
The sound of her footsteps died away. The Maha let out a long, drawn-out sigh. His hands flexed.
Without a word, he hit Mehr. One blow, then another, hard enough to send her skidding across the stone. She curled up, covering her face with her arms. She thought he would keep going, would beat her bloody in front of Amun and Hema and Bahren and Kalini and Abhiman, debase her with an audience. But after the second blow, as she cowered and bit her tongue and waited—he stopped, and stepped away from her.
“I will deal with you further in a moment,” he promised. Mehr lowered her arm from her face and watched him turn to face Hema.
Hema was crying.
She hadn’t betrayed Mehr. But Mehr wished now that she had. Instead Anni had heard more than either Mehr or Hema had suspected, that night by the oasis. She must have understood enough of their hushed conversation to know that Mehr had disobeyed the Maha, and that Hema had chosen to keep her confidence—enough to condemn them both. Now Anni had told Mehr’s secret, and left Hema to face the consequences.
Oh, Hema. Now you know what the Maha is. I’m sorry for it.
“Aren’t you going to tell me you serve with all your heart and soul?” His voice rang out. “Aren’t you going to beg forgiveness, child? You have deceived me. Betrayed your Maha and your Emperor.”
Hema shook her head wordlessly. She looked too terrified to speak. The confident, sly woman Mehr had grown to know had been reduced to this—to silence and fear, to the wait for the inevitable punishment to rain down upon her.
“If Anni had not come to me, your betrayal would have continued. I know it. I know your heart, child. And it is rotten.” A sigh. “I am so disappointed in you.” He paused to let his words sink in: the consummate orator. “You understand, I’m sure, that your actions have consequences. You were told when you first came here that traitors must be punished.”
Someone in the room sucked in a sharp breath. Hema raised her face, her teary eyes fixed somewhere around the Maha’s chin. Even now, she was loath to give offense by doing something as heinous as meeting his eyes.
“I have always tried to serve truly, Maha,” she whispered. Mehr had never heard Hema’s voice sound so small. She sounded like a small creature left out in the cold. “I am faithful. I only hoped …” She stopped, swallowing. “I only hoped to help Mehr be faithful too.”
The Maha stared down at her, his fractured eyes glacial. He held out his hand. “My blade, Kalini,” he said.
Hema let out a sob.
“Maha,” Kalini said. Her voice trembled. “I beg you. Please, no.”
“Theblade, Kalini.”
“Maha—”
Abhiman swore a sharp oath. Mehr turned just in time to see him snatch the blade from Kalini’s grip. He bowed to the Maha and handed him the hilt before stepping back to stand again at Amun’s back. The Maha gave a faint nod of thanks.
“Kalini,” the Maha said gently. “You are my most faithful servant. No taint from this will touch you.”
“Maha, my lord, please. When my sister and I joined you, you promised we would be safe.” Kalini sounded wretched. “We both love you above all things.”
