“Rashid, please,” she said. “I am sorry if perhaps my actions misled you. I do consider you a good friend and an even greater ally. I sincerely hope this unpleasantness will not ruin the bond our families have shared for generations.”

“You cannot care about that,” he said, voice bitter. “Not when I am trying to strengthen that very bond, and your response is to callously reject me.”

“I do care, which is why I think we will be better suited as allies than husband and wife. I am sorry, Rashid, but I cannot offer you more. I will leave you now.”

Without waiting for a response, Durkhanai set off. She released a long breath. She knew this would have consequences, but she could not lie. She did not wish to.

Durkhanai had negotiations to handle. She was tired of waiting. Until now, the Wali of S’vat had been handling everything. The Badshah, too focused on his wars, could not be bothered and nor could the Shehzadi, too focused on the people—but no more.

The people had asked her when the ambassadors would be leaving. Durkhanai would give them a response.

She went directly to Gulalai’s room. Her friend was sitting, writing a letter.

“Come with me,” Durkhanai said, plucking the pen from Gulalai’s fingers.

“Durkhanai, what’s the meaning of this?” Gulalai asked, when Durkhanai grabbed her hand.

“Trust me,” Durkhanai responded, bringing Gulalai along until they reached the presence chamber. Durkhanai threw open the doors, walking in with Gulalai at her side. The Badshah and the Wali watched carefully.

“Ambassador,” the Wali nodded her acknowledgement. “Durkhanai, jaani,, what is it?”

“Kurra’s ambassador is leaving, and she will return with one hundred horsemen to aid Marghazar in her war against the Luhgam Empire, as Teerza has provided soldiers.” Durkhanai declared. “When the ambassador returns, she is welcome to an extended stay here as my guest. I pledge my loyalty to her as a friend, as she has pledged hers to me.”

Durkhanai took everyone by surprise, including herself. Gulalai balked. The Wali was surprised, but they all waited for the Badshah to respond. Durkhanai’s grandfather regarded the young girls carefully, showing no emotion, no reaction, until finally he nodded.

“One hundred and fifty,” he replied. “We make no written commitment to Kurra, and the pesky matter of the summit is truly settled, never to be brought up again.”

It was a bad deal, in truth, and Durkhanai was entirely dependent on Gulalai to trust her. And while Gulalai was her friend, she was also an ambassador and daughter of the Wali of Kurra.

Durkhanai waited with bated breath to see if Gulalai would agree to the terms. She turned to her friend. Gulalai tapped her fingers on her cane, her nails clicking against the jewels, face pensive.

It would need to be enough. Perhaps this was how long-lasting alliances began: with nothing but trust.