“Somebody has made it known throughout the villages that the palace is harboring an abundance of medicine without distributing,” Dhadi said without preamble. “And now the villagers are splintering with rage at the crown at a time that we must all be the most united.”

“Who?” Durkhanai asked, heart beating fast. “Who told?”

Who had even known? As far as her grandparents were concerned, she didn’t even know—though she suspected they had caught on to the full truth, now.

“That Jardumi ambassador, of course,” Dhadi replied, shaking her head. Durkhanai’s heart stopped altogether. For a moment, she didn’t believe Dhadi.

“Are you—” she began, but Dhadi held up a hand to stop her.

“You’re doubting me now?” Dhadi asked, eyes sad. “Yes, I am sure.”

“How—”

“You think we didn’t notice the missing vials?” Dhadi said, shaking her head. “I know all that goes on in this palace. I warned you to stay away from him; in fact, I remember expressly forbidding it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Durkhanai replied, heart wilting. “Or stop me?’

“Jaani, we wanted you to feel like you were doing something to help. Delivering a few vials is of no consequence, so long as you were discreet.” Dhadi sighed. “But you weren’t careful; you trusted someone who was not to be trusted. Now, everyone will have noted the unfair distribution. Bevakoof ban’gai. Naeem-sahib is already vexed by the slow distribution—the people already up in arms to stop working in protest—and now this? It’s made matters worse, especially considering Naeem-sahib has already expressed interest for you to marry his son.”

Rashid—Durkhanai had nearly forgotten about him. She should have been more careful, especially when Naeem-sahib had already expressed his discontent with her.

She’d been distracted.

Dhadi’s face hardened with irritation. “You’ve made a mess. And now we must fix it. Durkhanai, when will you learn to stop acting like a child and more like a future queen?”

Agha-Jaan finally turned to look at her. The disappointment in her grandparents’ countenances stung sharper than a thousand knives. Agha-Jaan remained silent, face stony. He never had the heart to yell at her or discipline her in any manner, but his presence confirmed that he agreed with his wife.

“When you treat me more like a future queen and less like a child,” Durkhanai said, voice icy. “You always tell me not to worry and don’t involve me in anything. I asked you about the medicine, in the very beginning, but you brushed me off. I had to take matters into my own hands. That is what a future queen does: look out for her people and their health.”

“No, bachay,” Dhadi replied. “You must be strategic. You cannot act on every whim and emotion your heart sends running through your veins. You must think.”