You inquire as to whether we took due course of action in regards to the summit of your neighboring leaders, to which we respond that we responded adequately. While it cannot be said that we are friends, for the war that still rages on at our shared border, the information you provided me was surely that of camaraderie. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and in informing us of the summit meeting and its location, you have earned what you asked...

Durkhanai could not read further. She felt sick.

The Badshah had orchestrated the attack on the summit.

All this time, she had stood up for her crown, thinking them to be innocent when in fact it was they who were guilty. She had assured Gulalai and everyone else that Marghazar was blameless, that they would never do such a thing.

She had racked her brain searching for the truth—and here it was: so simple, so hideous.

Of course it was them.

Wasn’t Marghazar the one with the most to gain from all this? The one zilla left unscathed? The one most threatened by the other zillas’ unification?

“Durkhanai, I’m sorry,” Asfandyar said. “I don’t want war any more than you do, and now, nor do I wish for anything to happen to your grandparents, simply because I know how much you adore them, whereas just a few months ago, I would have killed them both on sight without a second thought. They spared Naina no mercy, and for that I would have spared them none—but for you, I would spare them anything.”

His hands were tight fists. She could see this was costing him greatly to say. He would not lie, but she did not want to believe him, did not want to imagine her grandmother as a murderer, though she could not have said it surprised her entirely. The Wali was ruthless when it came to protecting her family and her people.

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “What do I do with this?”

“You cannot in good conscience let them continue their rule,” Asfandyar said. “Not after what they’ve done.”

“You want me to . . . overthrow them?”

“If you publicly condemn their behavior, stating you had nothing to do with it, and banish them into exile, there could still be a chance at peace,” he told her. “After learning of this alliance, no one will accept your grandparents’ leadership. But if you make it clear you had no knowledge of such actions and punish the Badshah and Wali for their transgressions, the people will naturally turn to you. It won’t be easy—but you could do it, Durkhanai. You could convince the village people and the noblemen. It is your birthright. You would be the Badshah.”

Here was the truth in front of her, grotesque and cruel.