“You worry too easily. I am sure Nano has things under control,” Zarmina said, referring to the Wali. “She has dealt with far greater challenges.”

Durkhanai bit the inside of her mouth. “Yes,” she said. “Of course.”

“Come, let me recite you some poetry to soothe your mind,” Zarmina said, leading her to the couch and picking up a book from the table.

But even after an hour of beautiful lines, Durkhanai was not content. If anything, she felt more aggrieved. She knew there was another she could seek out, but Dhadi’s warning rang in her mind. It was with sadness that she retreated to her private library, leaning on the windowsill and staring out at the mountains. A crow cried in the distance.

A little time later, in the last place she’d expect someone, she had a visitor.

Chapter Eight

“Am I interrupting?” a deep voice asked.

Durkhanai’s heart caught, but she refused to turn from her spot in her private library, her favorite place to slip away to think. She stood before one of the highest windows in the palace, overlooking the lush valley below. She heard footsteps padding across the rug as he approached, but she did not move.

She reminded herself that he was a foreigner. One her grandmother forbade her from seeing.

In the three weeks that had passed, she hadn’t talked to him much. She had been far too busy—perhaps intentionally too busy—with visiting villages and cataloguing the new illness sweeping through them.

Despite how large the marble palace was, she had seen him often, in passing, and even if they didn’t speak, they always shared a glance and a nod of acknowledgment. Sometimes a smile, even, or a smirk.

Once, however, she saw him thrice in the span of a day, and on the third occasion, she couldn’t help but laugh. Something about him made everything turn bubbly, like she’d downed champagne.

“Ambassador,” she had said, feigning surprise. “Are you following me?”

“Princess,” he had replied, feigning equal surprise. “Perhaps it is you following me.”

“Need I remind you this is my palace?”

Neither had stopped walking, merely slowed their respective pace. He had laughed as he passed by, and the way he looked at her—she couldn’t get it out of her head.

He was charming, and she was optimistic. She was a rosy-eyed fool, but oh, did the rose smell sweet.

She could sense she was being silly, but she didn’t mind. Even though she should have. If the ambassadors weren’t here, she could return to focusing on the wars and the villagers’ well-being rather than spying. It was why she had not sought him out.

So, in that moment when Asfandyar finally sought her out, as she had somehow sensed he would, Durkhanai refused to acknowledge him. He came and stood beside her. Still, she did not turn.