The guards led them in, granting them entrance, only to lock them in a prison cell just on the other side of the gates. They waited a day until the guards finally returned, and even then, Naina remained confident, poised.

“They are my family,” she kept saying. “My blood.”

Until Bazira Miangul, the Wali of S’vat herself, came. She was silent as stone. Naina looked nothing like her.

“Dhadi!” Naina had cried, smiling. The Wali bristled but did not react except to motion for the guards to bring the pair out of their prison.

It was the Wali’s eyes: Asfandyar knew right then that they were doomed.

He had seen disgust before—he was half-Black, after all—but never like this.

“Naina,” he whispered, hoping to shield her from this, but it was too late.

“How dare you enter my lands?” the Wali asked calmly. “Claim to be my blood?”

“I am Wakdar’s daughter,” Naina said, quick to explain. Asfandyar remained quiet. “I am your granddaughter.”

There was a crack in the air as the Wali slapped Naina. Shaken from the force, Naina tumbled to the ground. Asfandyar reached for her, but he was held back by guards. He watched in horror as the guards lifted Naina, too, holding her up.

“I have one granddaughter,” the Wali said calmly. “She was birthed from the mountains. She has no father as I have no son.”

“Please,” Naina said, lip trembling. “Just listen to me.”

The Wali slapped her once more.

“Do not interrupt,” she said. “You have insulted me by claiming to be my own, by claiming to be my granddaughter’s equal. You are nothing like her—she is pure, you are not. She belongs, you do not.”

“Where is your hospitality?” Asfandyar cried out.

“You are not my people,” the wali replied. “The Marghazari never return, for they never leave—certainly not a Miangul. If they ever dared, they would lose their status and their lineage—they would lose their blood. The penalty for such treason is death.”

“Okay, alright,” Asfandyar said, trying to keep his voice calm. “I apologize—we both do. With your permission, we would like to go home now.”

The Wali shook her head, face cold.

“Please, let us go home,” Asfandyar pleaded then, too frightened. He cast a frantic look to Naina and saw the crippling fear in her eyes—but worse was the grief of rejection. “We won’t say a word to anyone. It’ll be as though we had never come. Just let us go—have mercy.”

“Kill the girl for her false claims to my family,” the Wali had said, without batting an eye. “Send the servant back as a warning to the man who claims to be of my blood.” She turned and met Asfandyar’s eye. “There is your mercy.”

The guard holding Naina lifted his sword to her throat.

“No!” Asfandyar cried, struggling to break free. “Send her back. Kill me!”