“And then the explosion. It seemed to come from everywhere, all at once, before the Wali of Teerza could even speak. I was thrown across the room, but the fall was softened by other bodies. When I opened my eyes, the room was full of sulfur and smoke, dust and debris. As I looked to my side, I found the Wali of Teerza with glass lodged throughout his body, blood flowing across his skin. He was already dead.

“I stood, inspecting the wreckage, and saw the Wali of Jardum, arm decapitated. A large mass of stone had fallen and crushed her body. I had regarded her as family: she was a good friend of my father’s, and after his passing and my mother’s, she had always treated me like her own.”

He closed his eyes, face contorted in pain.

“I didn’t even get to see her face,” he whispered, then stopped, no longer able to speak.

Durkhanai hadn’t realized how gruesome it had been. Nor did she consider how painful it would be for him to relive the memories of that day—after all, he could have been among those deceased or severely injured. And people he had known—colleagues—had been among the casualties.

“I’m sorry,” Durkhanai said, voice small. “I didn’t realize . . .”

“It’s alright,” he replied, opening his eyes. He cleared his throat. “The attack—it just reminded me of the fronts.”

“You were a soldier? But you’re so young.” She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice.

Asfandyar shrugged it off, running a hand through his curls.

“I was in a bad place, then,” he said. She wanted to ask him more, but he continued on before she could. “What I don’t understand is why a zilla would have informed the Kebzu Kingdom. Unless nobody did and the Kebzu Kingdom has spies of their own?”

“No, I don’t think they have spies,” she replied.

The entire affair was immensely secretive. In Marghazar, only she and her grandparents had known about it, and Asfandyar had mentioned before that only the walis of the zillas and their most trusted advisors had known about it. Of which, he was one.

Durkhanai wanted to ask how he managed to become a senior advisor at such a young age—he was only nineteen, after all. And while Gulalai and Durkhanai were both seventeen and in similar positions, they were blood of the walis.

But those were questions for another time.

“Who is benefitting from this situation?” Asfandyar asked.

And suddenly it hit her.

“What about B’rung?”

Durkhanai had written them off initially—as had Gulalai—because they were usually ignored and seen as irrelevant.

But they could have orchestrated the summit attack in order to gain Marghazar’s favor and gain a strong ally as well.