“Why not hold another, just to give it a chance?”

“The wars against the Luhgams in the east and the Kebzus in the north have lasted too long.”

“If Marghazar had allies in the other zillas, if we were all united as one nation, perhaps we could defeat those imperialists once and for all!”

Nobody was being outright accusatory, but she heard the undertones of vilification directed toward the Badshah.

She had heard those words before—from Rukhsana-sahiba. Had she been speaking to the people, planting these seeds of discontent? The people were distressed enough, and if Rukhsana-sahiba was meddling . . .

“I will speak to the Badshah,” the Shehzadi coaxed. “We have not ruled out any options, and we will do what must be done.”

Even as she persuaded the public toward contentment again, Durkhanai knew the creation of a united nation wasn’t just a horrible idea, it was impossible. Waving off her anger at Rukhsana-sahiba’s manipulation, Durkhanai considered the situation logically. Even if the summit had not been attacked, Durkhanai doubted the five Walis would have come to agreement on a single thing.

Joining with them would only hold Marghazar back, tie them down, and anyway, the other four zillas would never reach accords. It would merely be a struggle between the four leaders over the immense power of so many people, such a vast stretch of land.

Marghazar only ran so smoothly because the decisions ran through one main person: the Badshah. Throw in four more different opinions and a united nation would be taken over by imperialists before it could even celebrate its inception.

But there was only so much Durkhanai could say. The people would not understand. Disheartened, she made her way back to the palace.

Durkhanai went to her grandmother’s courtyard, which connected her wing to her husband’s. There, she found Agha-Jaan and Dhadi soaking in the sun: Agha-Jaan reading a book, and Dhadi’s lips moving as her fingers rolled over a tasbeeh.

“How is my little Shehzadi faring?” Dhadi asked, smiling sweetly. Durkhanai gave a dramatic sigh. She sat by her grandmother’s feet and laid her head on Dhadi’s lap.

“Kya bataon,” she replied. “Some people are determined to see us as the villains, no matter how I explain it.”

“You mustn’t worry, meri jaan,” Dhadi replied, unbothered. “The villain of one story is the hero in another.”

Durkhanai had learned this long ago. It all boiled down to perspective. But she had never considered her family being the villains in any version of any story.

“I don’t want people to think of us as villains,” Durkhanai said.

“Oh, gudiya,” Dhadi said, stroking her hair. “Someone must be, in the end.”

Agha-Jaan opened his eyes, his gaze warm on her. He reached into the fountain and sprinkled water onto her cheek. Durkhanai wrinkled her nose, smiling.