“I had called for soldiers from the front lines to fortify Safed-Mahal with the onset of our visitors,” she explained. “But it seems our Lord has taken them back from this world.”

“They’re all . . .” Durkhanai began, trailing. She couldn’t finish the thought, let alone the sentence. Dhadi nodded.

“They’re all dead.”

“But how—”

“Don’t worry, gudiya,” her grandmother assured her. “Allah will provide for us.”

With a kiss to Durkhanai’s cheek, Dhadi left, back to the party, leaving Durkhanai alone with her thoughts. All their soldiers in the north, dead? It would mean sending more from within their lands to the frontlines, thinning the security they had within.

But how could they all have perished? The Kebzu Kingdom had great fighters, but never had Marghazar suffered such great losses. Perhaps—

Something shifted in the air behind her.

“Dhadi?” she called. A shadow flickered beside hers.

But when she turned, she was alone.

Chapter Three

In her sunroom, the weather was warm, full of birds chirping and rustling leaves. From the window, the land on a mountain cut with vertical slices that looked like fingers reaching toward the sky, toward something unreachable.

But they got close.

Maids entered and set the table for tea. Fine porcelain from the far east was laid out, along with potato samosay and chickpea curry to go on top, along with tamarind chutney. There was a steaming pot of chai and various little finger foods to go along with it: Durkhanai’s favorite almond pastries and flaky biscuits.

“God, this place is gorgeous,” Gulalai said, entering loudly, her cane clunking against the marble floor. “Marghazar truly has a knack for finery. I haven’t seen anything so grand in any of the zillas.”

“Shukria,” Durkhanai responded. She wondered about the other zillas; she had never been.

But she didn’t need to go. Marghazar was enough for her.

“Your wealth is truly astounding,” Gulalai said, taking a seat with a labored sigh. “Tell me about your grandfather, the great Ghazan Miangul of the Ranizais tribe, the boy king of legend. It’s nearly fifty years of rule now, isn’t it?”

“Yes . . . well, what else do you want to know?” Durkhanai responded. “The Luhgam Empires slaughtered his elder brothers and father. That’s how he became king. Fifty years later, and here we are.”

She didn’t want to say anymore. She wanted the truth of her family to stay cloaked for all eternity. The truth of the trauma Agha-Jaan faced, of tragedy and sorrow and sudden power. It was under him that Marghazar came to encompass S’vat, Trichmir, and Dirgara, under him that Marghazar became a hegemony among the zillas.