“But, Dhadi, why not just give the medicine out?” Durkhanai asked, exasperated. “Why must you use everything as an opportunity.”

“Because that is what the Badshah must do,” Agha-Jaan responded, no longer silent. “You want to be treated less like a child? Fine. You must stop deluding yourself into believing the problems of this world can be solved so simply, that you can give something in return for nothing.”

Her throat clogged. Agha-Jaan had never been so stern with her, only Dhadi had ever been. Her eyes stung with fresh tears of frustration.

“No more pouting,” Dhadi scolded. “Henceforth, we will treat you as a queen, and you must behave as one. Think twice before meddling. Quell the people’s qualms, the unrest that has been growing.

“You don’t want to be a pretty little princess anymore? Fine. Then stop acting like one.”

Chapter Eighteen

Durkhanai didn’t realize how heartbroken she would be.

How much her heart would pinch and ache. She couldn’t believe she had been a fool, that everyone had been right. What good it had done her to believe he was better than he truly was.

What hurt the most was how wrong she had been. She had valued their friendship, and there was no bigger sin than disloyalty. He had sold her out.

And she never wanted to see him again.

Durkhanai convinced herself she was fine, heart cold, and it lasted only as long as the stretch of time when she didn’t see him. But then she ran into him on her morning walk.

Seeing him felt like she’d chewed on glass.

Durkhanai tried to walk past him quickly, avoiding eye contact, but he intercepted her path. She leveled a glare at him, and he swallowed hard, his hand running through his curls.

“I need to talk to you,” Asfandyar said, eyes desperate. His face was full of raw emotion. She could read him like a book, still, but she didn’t understand all the words. Everything inside of her felt singed; she tasted her charcoal heart in her mouth.

She wanted to spit it out.

“There is no need,” she said calmly, feeling savage. “You will always be alone.”

He stopped in his tracks, and she walked away, her back straight as steel, chin high.

She finished her hike, taking measured breaths through her nose, letting out the steam. She passed a little creek, and inside, the water was stone grey like liquid cement. And suddenly being outside reminded her of that first hike, so, so long ago, now, when the ambassadors had first arrived.

It made her sick.

She kicked a rock into the water, watched it splatter.

Durkhanai went back inside the palace, her mood more bitter than karelay. When she went to her rooms, she found Gulalai sitting on one of her couches, reading a book, her cane resting beside her.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Gulalai said, not looking up from her book.