She had one, but it included using the secret passageways that connected from her room. She wasn’t stupid enough to show Asfandyar, and he must have realized something along those lines.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Meet me by the stables.”

She raised a quizzical brow. “How will you get out of here?”

His response was a cocky grin. “Spy, remember?”

How infuriating. “Asaman se uth’reho? Why do you walk around like you’re God’s gift to mankind?”

“You think I’m God’s gift to mankind?” he responded, brows raised, clearly pleased.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think you are. You do,” she clarified.

He shot her a wide grin, unconvinced. “See you on the other side,” he said with a wink.

As she made her way through the passageways, Durkhanai knew this was all a bad idea. It was dangerous to be going out at all, and thricefold as dangerous to be going out with Asfandyar.

Especially if she was caught. Firstly, she couldn’t be caught with a man in the middle of the night. Secondly, her people hated the ambassadors—any foreigners—and if she was seen with one, it would be doubly worse.

But she needed the help and he was willing and—she trusted him. She didn’t know why, but she did. It was a gut feeling.

Perhaps he really could help her—beyond just the medicine, but with finding out who was behind the summit attack. Time was ticking, and she was so caught up with checking in on her people and trying to quell their discontent that she’d hardly had any time to continue her investigation. After all, the attempts she had made on her own to investigate had come to nothing, and he himself had admitted he could use her help, too. This might be a good way to show him her gestures were sincere.

She knew the Badshah was searching vehemently, but he was preoccupied with the borders and the Lugham Empire. And the Wali was busy negotiating with the ambassadors and trying to buy more time. It was up to Durkhanai to exonerate her land, whether her grandparents realized she was capable of that or not.

But she seriously doubted herself when she tripped on a branch, snapping it loudly in half, and Asfandyar shot her a withering glance.

“Do be a little louder, Shehzadi,” Asfandyar whispered. He offered her his hand, and she pushed it aside.

“Go to hell,” she hissed back.

“But then what would you do without me?” he replied cheerily.

“Be immensely happy.”

“You break my heart,” he said, holding both hands to his heart, wincing dramatically.

“Uff, taubah!”