She didn’t have time to think further. The Badshah had arrived with his wife by his side. Everybody lowered their heads in respect and sat after the Badshah had taken his seat. Durkhanai looked straight, which meant looking directly at Asfandyar.

He looked her up and down and giving her the “wah, bhai,” head bob. She could read it clearly: he was pretending to be impressed by how extravagantly she was dressed, especially in contrast to how he saw her for the long hours of night. She responded by raising her chin in an I know fashion, ignoring his sarcasm. He shook his head with a little downturned smirk.

In just a little over a month of knowing him, she could understand his expressions like it was their own private language.

The servants brought out plates of crisp parathas, glistening with ghee, accompanied with eggs spiced with red pepper and sauteed with long, thinly cut onions. Then came the fried puris, served with a yellow potato curry and an earthy chickpea curry. The Badshah began to eat, and the rest of the court followed.

After eating, when everyone began to disperse, she noticed who paired off, and most interestingly of all, Asfandyar remained alone.

It was strange, for he clearly knew how to navigate a crowd. He looked . . . lonely. Walking on his own, looking out the window, hand knotted in his curls.

And Durkhanai knew she must have looked like that, in the months Zarmina was away from court and Laila Baji was busy in her own home and her grandparents were more king and queen and she had everybody to call her people but nobody to call her own. Loneliness had different shades, different scents and flavors.

She somehow felt that she understood his.

“Durkhanai, what are you doing?” Zarmina said, grabbing her arm. Durkhanai hadn’t even realized, but she was about to approach Asfandyar before Zarmina held her back.

“What?” Durkhanai responded, playing it off. Zarmina shook her head.

“Janaan . . .”

“What?” Durkhanai feigned innocence.

“Don’t act. I saw the way you two were looking at each other. He is our enemy; you must remember that. There’s a reason Dhadi forbade you from forming too close an acquaintance with him, but do you listen? No.”

“Is he, though?” Durkhanai sighed.

Zarmina gave an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Durkhanai said, taking Zarmina’s hands. “Let’s leave it.”

“No,” she replied. “You always see the best in people even when there is none to see. But you must understand: Marghazar will never accept a foreigner. Especially, when Naeem-sahib has already set his eyes on you for his son. You know I want you to be happy, but you must use your common sense.”

That was the problem: she lost all sense when it came to Asfandyar.

“He is an enemy to our land,” Zarmina said sadly. “Don’t forget that.”