In the background, the dhol and pipes called the people to dance under the stars. She circled with the ladies; the men did the same. It wasn’t unusual for the dance to be mixed, but she knew some of the other tribes like B’rung were more conservative. All the ambassadors joined the dance except for the ambassador from Kurra.

Durkhanai took the hands of those beside her, and the beat started off with slow steps as they circled. To the rhythm, they clapped inside the circle at the instant the music called for, then brought their hands out again, only to repeat.

The music gradually quickened, as did their motions, adding an extra clap, adding a twirl between the beats. To show their regard for Durkhanai, the ladies clapped, then touched their fingers to their foreheads in respect to their princess. As they did, Durkhanai smiled, looking away.

Across the floor, she caught Asfandyar’s gaze, glowing with firelight.

He grinned.

She averted her gaze quickly, her breath catching. Face flushed, she risked a glance back, and he was staring at her still—and so openly!

She had never known such forwardness. Usually boys were tripping around her, such as Rashid, always nervous in such a sweet, endearing manner. But Asfandyar—he had no shame.

Durkhanai knew she was beautiful, even more so with the precision that had gone into getting her dressed, and boys usually did stare, though not so unabashedly. She wondered if it was because the Jardum pass connected the east and the west, so its people were known to be more metropolitan.

Whatever it was, she couldn’t stand the heat of his gaze.

Heart beating quickly, she danced with the movement of the song, quickening her steps as the dhol intensified, and between the clap and spin, she caught Asfandyar’s eyes on her, unwavering, unflinching. As the beat of the drums quickened, so did her heart, filling her with a fiery feeling she couldn’t displace.

He was focused more on her than the steps of the dance, which he executed perfectly, even as the beat quickened further. His neck shone with sweat, but it was nothing compared to the glitter in his eyes. Breathless already from the dance, Durkhanai felt there wasn’t enough air in her lungs.

He kept staring, easily gliding in and out of the dance steps, eyes never leaving hers.

Durkhanai couldn’t stand it.

“I’m going for a drink,” she said to her friends, out of breath. They continued on without her as she went to the side, picking up a goblet of shikanjvi. She sipped it carefully, resisting the urge to drink the spiced lemonade in one gulp. She forced her heart to find a steadier rhythm than the quick music and even quicker pounding of feet.

Somehow, she felt him before she saw him.