“If you tell me I told you so, I’ll cut out your tongue and wear it as a necklace,” Durkhanai seethed. She plopped down beside Gulalai, arms crossed, face sour.

Gulalai put her book down.

“Hai Allah! Come now,” Gulalai tsked, shaking her arm. “Don’t pout.”

Durkhanai shrugged her off, face scrunched. Her eyesight was foggy from emotion. She wanted to do something terrible or painful or horrible, but she didn’t know what.

“Bas bohat hog’ya,” Gulalai said. “That’s enough!”

Durkhanai was attacked by a pillow to the face.

“Hey! Ye kya batameezi hai?” she snapped, picking up a pillow and retaliating. She hit Gulalai hard.

“Ow!” Gulalai exclaimed. She hit Durkhanai again, ensuing a mini battle. They hit one another, and Durkhanai had to curl her fingers into the pillow to avoid actually hurting Gulalai, who had no fault in all this.

Durkhanai tackled Gulalai, smushing the pillow into her face, and she found that it was upending all the toxic energy within her—it felt good. They were both laughing.

But as she hit and hit Gulalai, her breathing getting deeper and deeper, she felt something unravel inside of her. Tears sprung in her eyes and she told herself it was from the pillow blows, though she knew it wasn’t.

The pillow was knocked from Durkhanai’s hands. She pushed Gulalai onto the plush sofa.

“Ah!” Gulalai laughed. She mirrored Durkhanai’s actions, but rather than pushing her, she threw her arms around Durkhanai and tackled her into the cushions, falling on top of her.

Gulalai squeezed and squeezed.

They laid in silence, clutching one another, hearts beating in tandem.

“Okay?” Gulalai whispered. Durkhanai nodded.

She was anything but okay, yet she still rose.

“You’re right,” Durkhanai agreed. “Enough dramatics.”

Durkhanai had too much going on to be worried about a stupid boy. She had to continue her investigation, with little under two weeks left until their three months were finished.

And still no word from the Wali of B’rung yet.

Without proof, war was inevitable—and with the illness lowering the people’s ability to work and weakening the general public, her people were in no shape for war.

“Now you can focus on the people and civil unrest,” Gulalai said. “Rather than being distracted.”

“I wasn’t distracted,” Durkhanai snapped, even though she knew she had been.

“Acha, acha,” Gulalai said. “You weren’t. Now, I have an idea to cheer you up!” She grabbed Durkhanai’s hands and pulled her along into the drawing room. “Let’s call for tea! Nothing like chai and samosay to lighten one’s mood. You sit right here and I will be back!”

Gulalai disappeared, leaving Durkhanai alone to her treacherous thoughts.

She didn’t understand: she knew he was bad for her and—yet.