They passed a little creek, and the water looked like blue-grey marbles, looked like glass. If she looked close, she wondered what her reflection would show. But she did not go near, out of fear.

Neither did Saifullah, she noticed.

“Saifullah,” she said, remembering. “I saw you leaving the passageways once. What were you doing?”

“Just familiarizing myself with them,” he told her easily. “In case anything happens. I haven’t been in them much.”

“Oh . . . okay,” Durkhanai responded. She didn’t know if she should believe him, but what reason did she have not to?

But in case what happened?

“I’m surprised you even noticed. You’ve been distracted lately,” Saifullah told her. “You . . . haven’t been seeing things clearly.”

“I’ll be better.”

“Zarmina will be glad to hear that,” Saifullah said.

“Glad to hear what?” a voice behind them said. When they turned, Zarmina stepped up to join them, looping her arm through Durkhanai’s. “I heard you were out here so I decided to see to it that you weren’t having any fun without me.”

“How could we have fun without you?” Durkhanai replied with a laugh.

“Fret not, little one,” Zarmina said, patting her head. “I am here now. And I heard Dhadi gave you a scolding?”

“She did,” Durkhanai sighed. “I need to start acting more like a queen.”

Neither of them gloated; they just nodded in agreement. Durkhanai was glad. At the end of the day, family was the most important thing. The one constant, the people she could always depend upon. There was no bond stronger than blood, nothing more sacred. She had lost sight of that, but no more.

“Will you help me?” she asked them.

The twins didn’t need to exchange a glance. It was understood.

“Of course,” Saifullah sighed.

Chapter Nineteen

While Durkhanai waited for word from the Wali of B’rung, she focused on her people.

The next day, Zarmina and Saifullah accompanied her to the villages for the day. They made their way to the stage in the center of the village, where the people were already gathered in preparation for her visit. Zarmina squeezed her hand, and Saifullah nodded at her.

“Salam! As many of you may have heard by now,” Durkhanai began, voice strong. “There are rumors going around that the palace has withheld medicine distribution. I have come to tell you this is only half-true, and there was a reason for it.”

“But, Shehzadi, why withhold the medicine at all?” a young woman asked. “When so many of us had fallen ill?”

Her voice was not accusatory, merely confused. Durkhanai wished she had the answer to her question, but it was a solution she herself had been searching for.