Unease needled through Durkhanai. She had no misgivings about punishing him for crimes against her people, but the color of his skin was no affront. This was not the first time she’d been jarred by her grandfather’s beliefs. She’d spent the first portion of her life somewhere else, apart from her grandparents. Their gap in age did not help to assuage such chasms.

Asfandyar retained his aplomb, but she could see his smile like a cracked egg: jagged and crooked, hiding everything soft inside. Asfandyar wasn’t even that dark. Some Teerzais were much darker—but it was the build and the features.

Asfandyar was Black, no doubt about it. Everything sculpted and textured and built differently—and being different made you dangerous.

“We accept you all into this court, into Safed-Mahal, the jewel of S’vat and Marghazar,” the Badshah proclaimed. “My sincerest condolences for those who suffered in the abhorrent attack on the summit held in Teerza. I promise you, on Allah and his Messenger, Marghazar had nothing to do with such a horrid act, and we will all strive together to uncover who the guilty party is. Punishment will be swift and severe, I assure you.

“You are here in my court as a sign of solidarity and comfort, my brothers and sisters. Stay in our court, eat our food, speak with our people, and learn that the Marghazari are enemies to no one, that we are all brothers and sisters serving one Allah, following one divine message. I extend asylum to you all.”

Everyone was smiling, acting like her grandfather’s words were sincere, as though they truly were brothers and sisters when in truth Durkhanai was in a den of snakes, all with fangs poised to attack her family. She would not let that happen. She swore to it.

“You are my honored guests here, in my court,” the Badshah declared. “You will be safe and cared for and honored. Protected by the mountains and by my warriors. We are not enemies. We are family.”

But Durkhanai heard the threat underneath, as did the ambassadors: that they would be safe so long as they did nothing out of turn, and if they did, the mountains would suffocate them, barring exit, and his warriors would kill them.

“Now,” her grandmother said cheerfully, “let’s all retreat to the banquet hall for a feast!”

Durkhanai followed her grandparents into the ornately decorated ballroom. There, her extended family and the other nobles were waiting for them, smoking shisha and making light conversation.

The men were dressed in crisp white shalwar kameez and black or gray waistcoats, their heads topped with wool pakols. The women donned clothing heavy in floral embroidery on smooth silk or soft lawn cotton. Thin chiffon dupattas covered their hair, and warm wool or velvet chaadars covered their shoulders from the chilly mountain night. Their hands, necks and ears were covered in shining gold, their lips coated pink or red.