“If you’d like, I can talk to the other nobles and reassure them,” Rashid offered.

“You would do that?” she asked, voice timid.

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “Anything to help.”

“Shukria,” she said, relieved. “I appreciate your support greatly.”

“Don’t worry, Shehzadi,” he said, fondness in his features. He really was too sweet.

“With you by my side, there is no need to,” she said, smiling. His ears turned pink, and he ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Well, I’ll be off,” he said. “Thank you for chai. It was lovely.”

“Of course,” she said, watching him go.

After he had gone, she let out a breath. Too dense with decorum, she took off some of her jewelry, swapping her heavily embroidered organza dupatta for a simple chiffon one. She left to find Saifullah, aching to be outside.

She found him in his room writing a letter.

“Saifullah,” she said, standing in the doorway. “Come walk with me.”

“Alright, Shehzadi,” he replied. She approached, and he casually folded his paper in half, covering what he had written.

“Come,” he said, standing up.

She peered over his shoulder. “What are you writing?”

“Oh . . . just a letter to Ammi,” he replied hastily. “Nothing important.”

“Send Nazo Phuppo and the children my love.”

“I will,” Saifullah said, not meeting her eyes. “Let’s go.”

Strange.

The weather was warm enough that neither of them needed their chaadars, but they still shivered involuntarily from the mountain air. They began walking through the dense trees, dark green, arching over them, with only little pockets of sunlight peeking through.

“You were the one distributing medicine to the villagers, weren’t you?” Saifullah asked, after some time had passed.

Durkhanai nodded. “Was it stupid?” she asked. “Or selfish, maybe. I just wanted to do something to feel like I was helping, but now everybody is angrier than ever.”

“I understand,” he replied. “I just wish you had told me. I could have helped, you know. I may not be an heir, but I am not useless.”

Durkhanai frowned. “I’ve never thought you useless. I’m sorry you’ve felt that way, Lala.”

“It’s alright,” Saifullah responded. “Your heart is in the right place. You did what was right, even when Agha-Jaan and Nano couldn’t.”

“Don’t say that,” Durkhanai said. “You know Agha-Jaan always does what is best.”

“Does he?” Saifullah whispered.

She furrowed her brow. “Why are you questioning him all of a sudden? Has something happened?”

Saifullah sighed. He was closing off again, like he didn’t know how to speak with her anymore.

“I’ll tell you soon, Durkhanai,” he finally said. “It’s nothing to trouble over now.”

She wanted to ask more, but knew he wouldn’t budge until he was ready to. The stubbornness ran in them all. And he didn’t look worried more than just . . . sad. Or perhaps guilty.