“Meri jaan,” he said gently. “I knew visiting the villages so often would come to this. You are too devoted, at your own detriment.” Her grandfather smoothed her hair. “Tell me exactly which village you visited, and with whom you interacted with. We will trace this illness and punish whoever it was that gave you this illness.”

“Agha-Jaan, it is no one’s fault,” she said, voice thick. He was just fussing, but he shook his head.

“Gudiya, I cannot bear to see you like this,” he said, holding her hand. “But we can discuss that later. You must rest now and get better soon. Doctor Aliyah is preparing the medicine for you, and I’ve told the cooks to make you something nice.”

“Here, drink this now,” Dhadi said. She called a maid forward, who brought a teacup full of turmeric milk to Dhadhi. Her grandmother brought it toward Durkhanai, who made a face.

“Not dhoodh haldi,” she whined.

“Mhm,” Dhadi clucked. “If you don’t drink this, how will you get better?”

“Dhadi,” Durkhanai whined.

“Chalo, meri jaan,” Dhadi said, and there was no stopping her. Durkhanai drank the milk, wrinkling her face like she always used to. But she drank the milk too fast, and it went down the wrong way. Durkhanai began coughing, making a terrible wheezing sound.

“Maids! Water, now!” Dhadi called, voice panicked.

“Now!” Agha-Jaan roared. Durkhanai’s eyes filled with tears from the coughing, but she saw how frightened the maids were when they rushed in with water and washcloths, then ran off before they could be scolded.

“There, there,” Dhadhi soothed, rubbing Durkhanai’s back.

“Drink,” Agha-Jaan ordered. “Slowly.”

He held the cup of water to her mouth, and she drank. The wheezing subsided, and she fell back onto her pillows, catching her breath.

“Uff,” Dhadi fussed. “You cannot be left to take care of yourself, that much is clear.”

“That is why we are here,” Agha-Jaan said, squeezing her hand tight. She nodded, smiling sleepily.

“Meri bachi,” Dhadi replied, kissing her cheek. “My little girl.”

Dhadi stayed with her, taking care of her like she used to when Durkhanai was too small to take care of herself. Despite how busy Dhadi was, she stayed, more grandmother than wali. Dhadi tucked her into bed that night, wrapping her in shawls and blankets, then sliding in beside her.

“Tell me a story,” Durkhanai asked, already drifting asleep.

“Once upon a time, in a very olden time, there lived a king . . .” Dhadi began.

Listening to her grandmother’s voice, bundled up warm and tight, Durkhanai was safe. She was taken back to when Dhadi had devoted all her attention to making her feel at home in the summers and after she moved into the palace for good. Durkhanai had refused to be taken care of by nannies, always asking for Dhadi, who would oblige whenever she could. It wasn’t easy being the queen or a mother, but Dhadi tried her best.