As she changed into more suitable clothes and washed her face again, Durkhanai’s thoughts roamed.

She was scared she would do something unholy.

She wished she lived in the stars, in her dreams, where she wasn’t alone, but not just not alone, because she wasn’t alone, really, she had so many people—but in the dead of the night, she wanted somebody to put his arms around her.

And she kept seeing his face.

Oh, her cruel heart wouldn’t stop thinking of him, wouldn’t stop tormenting her. She couldn’t stop herself, no matter how hard she tried. She imagined a world, an impossible world, where she let herself dream—a world where he loved her, where he was hers.

She was already his.

It was absurd, with everything else going on, absurd how small this was, in the grand scheme of things.

But then, to her, it felt like the most important thing. So she let herself dream of being in love, and she knew she was being a fool, always the fool, but maybe, just maybe, it could work.

Let me and my awfully, awfully romantic heart breathe this lilac scented air, sweeter than vanilla and warmer than pink tea, she thought to herself.

No, Durkhanai warned herself. She would not lose her grip.

She swallowed her love like it was a lie and told herself it was lust.

Cleaned up and covered in a shawl, Durkhanai slipped back to her passageways, where Asfandyar was already waiting for her. His face was covered as well.

“Ready?”

They headed down, Durkhanai leading the way. She knew all the routes by heart, and as they made their way to the lowest level, her heart began beating fast with fear.

What if the Kebzu soldier told her something she didn’t want to hear? What if her grandparents truly had manipulated the evidence? What if there was some greater enemy out there that she hadn’t even considered?

Questions flitted in and out of her mind, a thousand scenarios and possibilities.

But it was all for naught.

When they reached the Kebzu soldier’s cell, he was already dead.

Chapter Twenty-Four

With the Kebzu soldier dead in his cell, there was really nothing more Durkhanai could do to find the truth. She had to trust her grandparents—trust they knew what they were doing, despite their suspicious behavior.

The next morning, when she asked them why they hadn’t informed her about the evidence earlier, Dhadi had an easy response ready.

“It was a surprise, gudiya,” Dhadi had said. “We didn’t want you to worry about that—it was your Agha-Jaan’s responsibility.”

“We wanted you to focus on the people, and you have been so good at caring for them,” Agha-Jaan added.

“Besides, we wanted to give you space to spend time with Rashid,” Dhadi said.