She was on her way down to the villages. Durkhanai, the devoted princess, tried to spend a few hours with her people, every few days, at least. There were various villages scattered along their main mountain, and she tried to visit different ones on different days. She’d been neglectful with the arrival of the ambassadors and wanted to investigate the unrest her cousins had mentioned.

Besides, a little love from her people would help assuage the shame she felt at her failed espionage attempt. It might clear her head a bit, too, to be away from the palace. Give her more time to consider her conversation with Gulalai and consider allyship with Asfandyar.

Today, she had tried to get Zarmina to accompany her, but Zarmina had been busy with something. Durkhanai had asked Saifullah, then, but he was suspiciously quiet and busy as well.

Durkhanai set out anyway and let the hours spool away listening to the villagers’ grievances, quelling their qualms. Durkhanai would read books to children in schools, or help the women cook, or go on walks with the elderly. It made her feel less lonely, most days.

Today, she knew it would ease the tension she felt from the ambassadors’ arrival and Saifullah’s strange distance.

Above all, she reassured her people that the Badshah and the Wali and the Shehzadi would not let them down.

“Shehzadi Durkhanai Api!” a little boy’s voice called. She turned to see Mahd, a five-year-old village boy.

“Hello, guddu!” she replied, crouching down to catch his running hug. He wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed.

“Look, look!” he said, bringing a piece of paper before her. He unfolded it to show her a drawing he had made. It was a drawing of the pointy mountains with clouds on top, and standing atop the clouds were two figures.

“Wow!” she enthused. He smiled, proud of himself.

“Will you come play cricket with us?” he asked, grabbing her hands. With a laugh, she nodded, allowing him to bring her to the rest of his friends.

They all cheered upon her arrival, crowding her, waiting for hugs and kisses. She was smothered by them all; her heart felt full.

When she tired of playing, she went to where one of the elderly women of the village was sitting, stitching embroidery onto a little kurta.

“Nano, how are you today?” Durkhanai asked. “Did the salve I had sent help at all?”

“Ah, my Shehzadi,” the nano responded. Durkhanai lowered her head to allow the old woman to hold her face. “Yes, the salve helped, but my blasted knees . . . I am too old.”

Durkhanai waved a hand. “Tch, nonsense! Come for a walk with me; they just need to be put in use.”