By then, Asfandyar knew enough of the world to seize it the moment he could. He gave Naina his mother’s gold bracelet, the bangle Mama had given him for safekeeping before she had left him. Asfandyar went to the man whose face always remained cloaked and asked for his daughter’s hand.

The man refused.

But his daughter would not take no for an answer. She did not eat for three days and three nights and her father relented in the way that fathers do for their daughters. Naina always said it was because her father had witnessed what separating love did to people and did not want his daughter to experience the same.

Asfandyar was seventeen; Naina was fifteen. Too young, too naive, too bright-eyed. They were fools, but they were fools in love, so they did not notice or they did not care.

It was then that Naina had confided in Asfandyar, told him that her father was actually the crown prince of Marghazar, to be the next Badshah. Asfandyar had always known Wakdar had come from some faraway place under strange circumstances—he hadn’t realized just how strange.

Wakdar had run from Marghazar because of how barbaric the Badshah was: too strict, too severe. His parents had caused him great pain. Which was why he had sought refuge in Jardum, where he had remarried and had Naina.

But after Naina’s mother passed away, her father became sad. Tragic. Haunted.

“Perhaps if we reunite him with his parents, with him home, he will be able to heal,” Naina suggested, hope burning bright in her green eyes. She had such a big heart.

“I’m not sure,” Asfandyar replied. What had he known, then?

“I can’t bear to see him so lost, Asfi,” Naina had said. “Please?” She pouted. “For me?”

What had he known, then, save for his love?

In secret, Asfandyar prepared for the trip. One quiet night, he and Naina snuck away, embarking on the journey with nothing but a little silver ring in her hand as evidence of her lineage. It was the Miangul family crest, and Naina was sure it would grant them entry into the famed Safed-Mahal.

“I can finally meet my grandparents!” Naina had exclaimed, excited. “Can you believe it? I wonder how they will be.”

They were both young and optimistic and naive and foolish. It was a long journey, but finally they reached the mountains of S’vat. Reached the edge of the capital city, where they were stopped.

Nobody could enter; nobody could leave. It was how they kept their land and their people pure, they were told. Only those from their own tribes were allowed in.

“I am from the Miangul family,” Naina said, holding up her hand to show the ring on her index finger. It was too big on her. “I have come to meet my grandparents.”