“Of course,” he said, voice husky. “I came to see the famed jewel of Marghazar.”

His voice split into an easy grin. He was mocking her. She turned her cheek, but she couldn’t help her heartbeat.

It was then she realized that they had gotten even further ahead of everybody, no one in sight ahead or behind them.

“You’re distracting me,” she said, irritated.

“Yes,” he replied. Gulalai had warned her, but she couldn’t help how much she enjoyed his company. He was surprisingly candid.

She cocked her head to examine him.

“Why are you here?” she asked again. “The truth, please.”

“The truth?”

“Yes.” She was losing her patience.

“I’m a spy.” He smirked, drawing closer as she frowned. “Aren’t you as well?” he whispered. “Isn’t that why you’re here? Don’t worry—I won’t tell.”

Her frown deepened.

“I’ll give you some advice, spy to spy,” he said. “But it’s a secret between you and I. Do you think you can manage that?”

He was treating her like a child. She wanted to strangle him.

“Don’t let every emotion show on your face so plainly, little red,” he told her.

Her eyebrows furrowed together, her face folding into a frown.

“See,” Asfandyar continued, tapping her cheek. “Your face gets florid.”

She wanted to scrunch her face up in irritation, but she caught herself, flattening out every emotion she could until her mien was detached.

“That would be good advice if I was a spy,” she tried to say coolly. “How unfortunate you lack basic logic. Why would I be a spy in my own home?”

“Okay,” he countered, eyes glittering. “If you are not a spy, why are you here, talking to me? When you and Gulalai-sahiba seem to be such friends, and Palwasha-sahiba is desperate for your help, and Rukhsana-sahiba’s anger should surely be placated. Why are you here?”

She started, unsure. Nobody ever questioned her. She looked at him. “Because the mountains are beautiful. Because I am a princess.” Then, heart hammering, she said, “Because I enjoy your company.”

His lips twitched.

“Well done. I cannot tell if you are lying or not,” he responded, charmed. She had told him a half truth.

Durkhanai was never good at lying; she was always filled with acid and everything burned for the heartbeat before the lie left her lips. Often, she would feel so guilty she would concede and tell the truth.

“The mountains are quite beautiful indeed,” he said. “The mountains and the river S’vat make a good pair.”

“Indeed they do.” Durkhanai loved them both—but she couldn’t help but sigh in remembrance of the valley in which she had spent the first half of her life.