Wakdar and Nazo had a plan, and Saifullah was a dutiful son. There was nothing more sacred than blood, and he owed his blood to his mother first.

When they had concocted the plan, Saifullah knew not to trust Asfandyar—it was why he had kept his identity as the spy within the palace a secret. But the alliance had been made by Wakdar and the Wali of Jardum. With the forged evidence that the others would believe to be real, war would be incited, which would bring about the perfect opportunity to topple the Badshah and bring forth the treaty between Marghazar and Jardum.

Saifullah’s family would take charge of S’vat while Wakdar became the new Badshah. His grandparents would be exiled, and Durkhanai would be pardoned, for it was not her fault Asfandyar had bewitched her. Jardum would receive an ally and all the advantages that came with it: the river and jewels and much more.

Jardum and Marghazar would be united as one. There was no use for isolation anymore. Saifullah was sick of his grandfather’s barbaric ways. It was a new world, and they would need to adapt.

Saifullah had hoped Durkhanai wouldn’t be the fool, had hoped to soften her fall had she stayed allegiant and resilient, but she had disappointed him—she had fallen for Asfandyar, the foreigner, the spy. It was treason against her people, and treason had to be punished.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it had to be done. It was why Saifullah hadn’t told Zarmina everything. She wouldn’t have been able to bear it. Zarmina knew of the Badshah’s alliance with the Kebzu Kingdom, and this was enough to turn her away from him. What the Badshah had done was dishonorable. Marghazar was better off under someone else’s reign. It would be enough to turn the people against him.

And they both hated Asfandyar for taking Durkhanai from them, for stealing her away.

Even now, Durkhanai stood there still as stone, watching Asfandyar being taken away. Saifullah came and wrapped his arms around her, brushing a hand through her hair.

“Everything will be alright,” he told her.

Saifullah hated to betray Durkhanai thus, but it was for her own good. She was like a little sister to him, and he would protect her. He swore to Allah he would.

When war broke out, if Asfandyar was somehow still alive, Saifullah would kill Asfandyar himself in redemption for the part he played in all of this.

The end was near. They were on the cusp of rebellion.

Only then could they start again.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Durkhanai’s world had been ripped apart, and with it, so had her heart.

She wished she could reverse time, go back five minutes, even five seconds—warn Asfandyar, tell him to run far and fast. She wanted to curse fate. Only after Asfandyar was gone did she realize she could not live without him.