“I swore,” Asfandyar finished. “We swore to Allah that we would avenge Naina, that we would have our revenge.”

Asfandyar watched Durkhanai as he told her all of this: watched the shock and grief and horror. She held her hand to her chest, and he felt his own heart react in reaction to her emotions.

He loved her, in truth. He would run away from all of this with her, run away from his oath to Wakdar and his oath to Naina. Damn his word, damn his revenge. He would start anew with her.

But there was no point in those thoughts now. Durkhanai would never have him. Yet, Asfandyar couldn’t help but imagine him and her, living under the stars, a thousand miles away. He would tell her the stories his own mother once told him, and they would be together, for eternity.

He thought about when Durkhanai had first kissed him, which seemed a lifetime ago now, and how afterwards he had pressed a finger to his bottom lip and found it to be swollen, tender to the touch. Delicately, he had run his tongue across it, and, even though it hurt, he couldn't quite bring himself to stop.

He could almost taste her on his lips, then, and he couldn't help himself, even if it hurt.

After Naina, Asfandyar had thought he would never love again—that he couldn’t.

How cursed was his fate.

It almost made him laugh.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“You demon,” Durkhanai seethed.

He stood there like a wilted flower, head bowed. She wanted to strike him.

“Why are you telling me this? Are you trying to turn me against my family?” She shook her head. “How will you benefit? Just as you care about your people, I care about mine.” Her nails bit into her palms. “I won’t let you harm them.”

“You are my people,” he pleaded, reaching for her.

“Stop!” she shrieked. “Stop lying to me.”

He opened his mouth to speak again but she cut him off.

“You have no honor,” she said, shaking her head. “You are worse than a thousand curses.” She meant every word, and it astonished her, her own cruelty. “I hate you. I wish we had never met, I wish you had never been born.”

She shook with emotion, but the rage quickly gave way to grief because, oh, hadn’t he warned her? Hadn’t he told her from the very beginning that he was a spy? Hadn’t he told her he had lost his best friend? The clues were there all along. She was just too blinded to see them.

“I believed in you,” she said, voice breaking. “I saw good in you, despite what everyone said. And this is what it got me—it serves me right for being a fool.”

She was losing her mind.

“Durre, please,” he pleaded. “I—I love you.”