In just a minute, Asfandyar had already provided her with more information than she or anybody she had asked could have ever come up with because he was right—she and her people didn’t leave their lands. Eavesdropping on Palwasha-sahiba had been a failure. Calling for tea with Rukhsana-sahiba had been a failure.

She had no clue about any of the details. This was a problem.

“Then who do you reckon was behind it?” she asked. “And why are you telling me this?”

She held her breath.

“Despite your sharp tongue, you may be the only person in this blasted tribe with any useful information beyond what I’ve been able to find myself. I’ve spent the past few weeks without any success—I figured we might be able to help one another.”

“And why would I help you?”

“For the same reason you would help yourself: you don’t want war between our tribes, nor do you want peace. The sooner this dreadful matter is closed, the sooner we can both go back to our people and our lives.”

“So you’re proposing we . . . what? Work together?”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” he replied with a shrug.

Interesting.

“I’ll consider it,” she replied, turning to go.

“Durkhanai,” he called. Something tickled in her tummy upon hearing him say her name.

“Hmm?”

“It’s good you’re worried,” he told her, voice earnest. “About your people, I mean. It means you care. So don’t give up on them.” He smiled. “They adore you.”

“Thank you,” she said, and she meant it.

It felt good to talk to him. Unlike everyone else, who told her not to worry, Asfandyar took her seriously. It was only this that compelled her to search where he had told her to.

She found the cupboard he spoke of easily, but it was small and held only a half-empty medicine cabinet. Durkhanai almost gloated, but for the sake of her people, she checked the other corridors. Nothing.

She returned to where Asfandyar had suggested. This time, she looked closer.

The medicine cabinet wasn’t flush with the wall.

She leaned around the side. Sure enough, it was a cover. She pushed the light cabinet over, and it glided easily, revealing a door that led to a massive room.

Rows and rows of medicine vials. They were labeled differently, for different things. Different colors and consistencies. She opened one and it smelled strongly of cardamom.

“Fittay mu tera,” she whispered. “Goddamn him.”

He was right.

Which also meant her grandmother had hidden the truth from her.

Durkhanai could understand her grandparents keeping her at a distance with the ambassadors, but she had always thought they trusted her completely when it came to her people. It was why she was so meticulous about meeting with them.

Dhadi always praised her for the care she showed the villagers. Agha-Jaan always said she was performing her duties most diligently.