Her grandparents never spoke about either of her parents; she had always assumed it was due to grief. Durkhanai had never known them, so there were no personas to miss, and Dhadi and Agha-Jaan did so well to make sure she never felt her parents’ absence, but she had always wondered. She had never asked so as not to cause her grandparents pain, but she should have.

“Did you send him away?” Durkhanai asked, accusatory and angry again. “Why didn’t you ever talk about him?”

Dhadi and Agh-Jaan exchanged a sad glance, both sighing. They were conversing without speaking at all, and she felt like a glass wall separated her from them. She felt like a child.

“Gudiya, your father left you,” Dhadi said, voice breaking. “He left us all. What use is there knowing that the man who was meant to care for you your entire life willingly left you alone in this world?”

“But why?” Durkhanai asked, confused, hurt. “Why did he leave me? What reason did he have to go?”

“Because he was a coward,” Dhadi replied, holding Durkhanai’s hand. “He couldn’t handle the responsibilities of being the crown prince, so he ran.”

“But—” Durkhanai’s voice cut off, confused. “But why not abdicate? Pass the responsibility onto someone else? Like Zmarack Chacha?”

“We had suggested it, as well,” Dhadi explained. “But he couldn’t bear it. He wasn’t strong enough to answer the people’s questions or the shame of shirking his responsibilities. Janaan, we tried to stop him from leaving, but his heart was set.”

“And my mother?” Durkhanai asked again. “What of her? Did she run with him?”

“After you father left,” Dhadi said, but she couldn’t manage the words. “Gudiya, your mother killed herself.”

“What?” Durkhanai whispered.

Her mother had killed herself. Tears spilled onto her cheeks, and she hastily wiped them away. Durkhanai didn’t know how to register such information, but she couldn’t succumb to her emotions, now. Not when there was still so much to be asked and said.

“So we told everyone they were both poisoned and sent you away, to save you from this truth,” Dhadi continued. So there had been no threat, no assassination attempt. “Now do you understand why we kept this from you? What good would come from knowing your father left you and triggered your mother’s suicide?”

“None at all,” Durkhanai replied. She was numb.

Her grandparents were right, as usual. And she, the fool.

“But what I would like to know is how you came to know Wakdar was alive to begin with,” Dhadi said, curious.

“Asfandyar,” Durkhanai replied. She didn’t want to say he was a spy for Wakdar because that would be damning; they would kill him immediately. Durkhanai was teetering on the edge of both sides, trying to stay loyal, trying to salvage whatever she could.

Damn her heart. Damn her love for a pair of enemies.