“Sometimes, that someone is us,” the Badshah said. “Don’t you remember when you were a little girl, so small you could sit just on my one knee, and you would sniffle and cry whenever we stopped you from doing anything at all?

“Did we not look like the villains then, in your small little mind, when we told you not to go too close to the mountain’s edge or not to near the roaring fire or to head into the rushing stream?

“You would pout and fuss, seeing us only ruining your fun, not knowing we were only doing what was best for you,” the Badshah said. “That is what it is to be a ruler: to be as the parent—sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always, always doing what is best for those who you love.”

She still remembered how indignant she would become whenever stopped from doing what she pleased, how furious. It could have been something so small as not being allowed sweets too close to dinner, and she wouldn’t speak to Agha-Jaan, suddenly a tyrant, for a whole twenty minutes.

Durkhanai would just stand there, arms crossed, pouting, until she was given her way.

She supposed it was similar with the people: they didn’t understand the nuances of everything occurring, so they could not comprehend the actions being taken or the decisions being made. Durkhanai wished she could explain it all to everyone, to hold all her people close, but it was infeasible.

They had to trust what she was doing came from a place of love.

“You cannot please everyone,” Dhadi reminded her.

“Nor can you befriend everyone,” Agha-Jaan added.

But she wanted to. She wished to keep everyone content.

Chapter Thirteen

In what had become routine, Durkhanai and Asfandyar slipped away from the marble palace, bags full of medicine, and began distributing at a nearby village. Today’s run was a second trip to Kaj’li, her favorite village and thus the first to be receiving a second visit from the “guardian angels.”

But as they finished their route, they saw a figure walking through the shadows ahead of them. Face covered, the figure carried a large bag. As Durkhanai crept closer to get a better look, the figure slowed their pace.

“Who is—” Durkhanai started, but her voice was cut off when Asfandyar’s hand slipped over her mouth.

“Shh,” he whispered, finger to her lips. He pulled her into the foliage. The figure turned to look over her shoulder, and as she did, her chaadar slipped to reveal her face.

Palwasha-sahiba.

“What is she doing?” Durkhanai whispered.

“We’re about to find out.”

Palwasha-sahiba walked down a trail. Slowly, Durkhanai followed her, maintaining her distance and shrouding her face with her chaadar, as well. Asfandyar followed suit, masking himself.

Palwasha-sahiba slowed her pace, pausing. She seemed to be inspecting something, but from this distance Durkhanai couldn’t tell what. Perhaps the roads?

Or was she lost?