“Zarmina,” Durkhanai warned. “Enough.”

“I’ve tried to be patient with you, but you aren’t seeing sense! The only reason he is here is to gain an advantage,” Zarmina said, exasperated “And advantages are not gained but stolen from the powerful. We are the most powerful: your crown and your land and your people.”

“He isn’t like that,” Durkhanai tried to say. She didn’t want to think he was. She believed in him.

“When the negotiations are finished, he will leave here,” Zarmina reminded her, eyes sad. “And you will never see him again.”

“I know,” Durkhanai insisted, but Zarmina wasn’t finished.

Zarmina shook her head, turning to leave. She stopped, turning back to say one last thing before she went, her face cold.

“When you are left standing alone at the end of the day, I wonder if he will be enough for you.”

Durkhanai fell ill that evening.

She felt it coming all day, but that evening after maghrib, she laid down and couldn’t seem to get up. When a maid came to find her for dinner, she found Durkhanai’s skin burning with fever.

Of course, the entire palace was thrown into a frenzy. Durkhanai was visited by doctors and told what to do: here, change into something warmer; here, drink this medicine; here, lie down and rest.

“Of course you’ve gone and gotten sick,” Zarmina fussed, irritated. “Batameez.”

Durkhanai knew Zarmina was worried, and she squeezed her hand. It was the language of sisters and they were versed in it well.

“Don’t worry,” Durkhanai said. “I’m fine.”

“Yes, I am sure she is,” a voice said. They turned to find Gulalai entering. She was shaking her head, exasperated.

“Durkhanai, you’re too much,” Gulalai said dramatically. “Is this all a ruse for attention because I haven’t had chai with you lately?”

“Why, of course,” Durkhanai joked, voice faint. “You’re such a horrible friend, I hardly see you. I had to do something.”

“Yes,” Gulalai sighed. “Well, I surrender! I’ll be more attentive, I promise. Now hurry and get better soon.”

Gulalai reached over and squeezed her other hand. They were both sitting by her legs, and while it was nice to have them so close, Durkhanai was beginning to feel hot. Sticky.

Saifullah noticed from his seat by her bedside.

“Give her space,” Saifullah said, shooing Zarmina away. “You girls and your incessant need to constantly be glued to one another.”

Zarmina made a face at him but did as she was told. Her and Gulalai found seats on the opposite end of her bed, by her feet.

“Better?” he asked quietly. She nodded.

“Thanks, Lala,” she said. She rarely used the word of endearment for brothers; he smiled.

But there was something rooted deep below, something growing. An emotion she couldn’t understand. She recalled the passageways, his strange behavior. Even now, how he couldn’t properly look her in the eye.