But Durkhanai didn’t see him as an enemy to her. How could he be an enemy to her land? They were one in the same.

“You’re right,” she said, not wanting Zarmina to worry. “I’m sorry for being prickly and unpleasant.”

Zarmina shook her head. “No, stop. I’m sorry for being harsh—I’m just looking out for you, you know. I don’t want you to be made a fool of.”

“I won’t,” Durkhanai said sharply.

Tears suddenly stung Durkhanai’s eyes. She felt entirely misunderstood and like she never would be understood.

“Oh, Durkhanai,” Zarmina said, voice soft. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Durkhanai nodded, waving her off, trying to ignore the contradictory truth: that she was a chubby crybaby but hated being treated as one.

“Zarmina, stop bothering our dear cousin,” Saifullah said, coming to join them. “Come, Durkhanai, let’s go riding. It has been so long.”

She went with him outside, toward the stables. The mountains were greener now, plush fields of velvet, and the weather was quiet and beautiful, only a little cloudy. The warmest months of the year always took too long to arrive, then left so quickly when they did. Durkhanai couldn’t see too far into the distance anymore, but the strong and solid mountains remained constant and sure.

They saddled up and began the ride. Her horse, Heer, seemed apprehensive today, and maybe she was reflecting it off of Durkhanai’s own body language. Durkhanai forced herself to relax.

“What did Zarmina say to upset you?” Saifullah asked after some time.

“Nothing, bas vasai,” Durkhanai replied quickly.

Saifullah sighed. He wasn’t saying much, and although he had always been quiet, this was an added layer of silence. Even when he had difficulty communicating, she could always understand the emotions on his face, the thoughts in his mind.

“Is something the matter?” she asked. “I’ve hardly seen you.”

“You’ve been too busy,” he muttered.

“Sorry?”

“I’ve been busy,” he said, clearing his throat.

“With what exactly?”

He gave her a pointed look, and here, with the mountains and sky as a backdrop, she realized suddenly what a man he had become, a thick beard covering his face. And something deeper: dark circles under his eyes, something somber and sad in his expression.

“I’ve been watching the ambassadors,” he told her. “Learning. Contemplating.” He gave a pause, deciding on his next words. “Trying to save our people and our land.”

He sounded bitter, almost accusatory.

“If you want to say something,” she said sharply, “just say it.”

He looked at her, gaze heavy. “Do you think perhaps the Badshah is wasting his efforts? Against the Lugham Empire?” he asked, voice hesitant. “That perhaps he is being blinded by vengeance at the cost of his own people.”

“How could you say that?” Durkhanai asked. “Everything Agha-Jaan does is for his people.”