“Abu!” Rashid’s voice called as he entered the room. He froze when he saw Durkhanai, then quickly lowered his head in respect. He joined them, and Durkhanai smiled sweetly at him. He looked away, cheeks pink.

“I have been looking for you, Abu.It is good you are here, as well, Shehzadi,” Rashid said. “The women from the Nurzai family refuse to work until their men have been healed. Many others are saying the same.”

They were in the eve of the second of two seasons, Manay. The crops of this season—maize, rice, jute—were to be sown in June and July, then harvested from September to the end of October. But with many people ill, already not all the lands were being sown. With these protests . . .

“Shehzadi, this is what I was speaking of,” Naeem-sahib said with a sigh. “Something must be done.”

And it was his final glance toward her that warned: or else.

Durkhanai wanted to punish him for that glance alone, the barbarism within her boiling, but she bit her tongue. Though he respected her, Naeem-sahib was clearly not willing to back down either.

“Of course,” she replied, voice curt. “I will take my leave.”

Durkhanai would have to attend to this matter, as well, and the sooner the better.

“Let me walk you,” Rashid offered, smiling brilliantly at her.

They walked together to the stables, where Heer was waiting for her.

Free of Naeem-sahib’s observant gaze, Durkhanai let out a sigh. She clenched her jaw, pinching the bridge of her nose. Taking in her worry, Rashid frowned.

“Shehzadi, what’s wrong?” he asked, voice hesitant. They had never been alone together before. He seemed nervous. He readied Heer for her, then handed her the horse’s reins

“Your father is discontent,” Durkhanai said, voice weary. “As are some other tribe leaders. And at a time like this, we must all be united, more so than ever. We cannot show weakness to the ambassadors.”

“Don’t worry,” Rashid reassured her, “I’ll handle my father, and the other nobles will fall into line. I’ll manage them.”

“You would do that?” she said, genuinely touched. But her voice was extra sugary sweet, and she batted her lashes just in case.

Rashid looked away, laughing nervously. “Yes, of course.”

She touched a hand to his arm, and his cheeks burned red. “Shukria, Rashid,” she said, drawing close, waiting to feel something.

“Of course, Shehzadi,” he said, offering her a sweet smile in response. “Excuse me.”

As she watched him go, she realized how steady her heartbeat was. She told herself this was what mattered: stability, comfort, surety.

And yet.

She returned to her palace, thoughts turning. Something needed to be done. Perhaps there was nothing she could do for the villages just yet, but there was another matter she could try to attend to.

Durkhanai went to find Zarmina and Saifullah and found the latter in the halls.