She wished everyone would just be upfront instead of all this pretense and suspicion and confusion.

“What a splendid banquet! Marghazar has been most welcome,” Ruksana-sahiba drawled. “And what a lovely surprise! At such perfect timing as well—one more day and we would have all had war!”

“Yes, well,” Durkhanai started. “The truth always reveals itself one way or another.”

“Such a pity for us to have to be leaving soon,” Rukhsana-sahiba continued. “We have learned a great deal about Marghazar’s people during our time here, and they are a boisterous bunch. Tragic, really, though about the illness—the workers are spread so thin.”

Durkhanai opened her mouth to respond, but Rashid was quicker.

“The people are having a swift recovery, but thank you for the concern,” Rashid said, smiling. “The people of Marghazar are resilient. A little sickness cannot keep them down.”

Durkhanai knew he was speaking from a good place, being diplomatic, but she could answer for herself and her people. She narrowed her eyes, and of course, Asfandyar noticed.

She ignored him.

“Let us hope,” Rukhsana-sahiba said with a laugh.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Rashid said, his hand hovering by Durkhanai’s back, to guide her away. She resisted eyeing his hand—not in front of the ambassadors.

They went their separate ways, and she caught Asfandyar sending her a glance over his shoulder.

Her heart squeezed tight.

“How are your tribespeople doing?” Durkhanai asked Rashid, forcing her attention to him. “Have most of them truly recovered from the illness?”

“Yes, alhamdulillah,” he replied. “Thank you for asking. And you’re not feeling worse or anything, are you?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said. “And the people, have they eased back into working? Are they no longer discontent?”

“You don’t have to worry about the people,” Rashid said. “You are a good shehzadi. They adore you.”

Durkhanai tried not to frown. She knew it was coming from a good place, but she didn’t need him to coddle her, as well.

“Right,” she replied, not pushing. They continued their chatter, making their rounds, and Durkhanai soon caught glances on her. People were giving her extra glances, and she wondered why.

Even Naeem-sahib was giving his son a pointed look.

Then she understood. She had been by Rashid’s side all evening, and he had been by hers. And at a gathering such as this, staying so close could easily be interpreted as meaning something. Even Asfandyar kept glancing her way, frowning.

At the very least, being with Rashid was making Asfandyar jealous.

The thought entered her mind and left in a flash. She paused. How despicable she was becoming—or perhaps she always had been awful.

“Excuse me,” she told Rashid. “I just need some . . . fresh air.”

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern covering his countenance. They were already outside, what more fresh air could she need? But there were too many people.