Durkhanai smiled. “Younger than me? You must be a baby, for I’m usually the youngest in the room save for the infants.”
“Yes, I know, Shehzadi,” Gulalai responded. “But remember: where the young give the elders respect, the elders must give something in return, as well.”
“And what would that be?”
“Sweets, of course!” Gulalai said. “And warm baths and pretty little gifts. You must coddle me.”
Durkhanai smiled, taken by this girl’s bubbly personality.
“Come now, you must only be a few months younger than me,” she told Gulalai.
“That is true,” Gulalai responded. “All teasing aside, I know what it is like not to be taken seriously because of your age. Seventeen and heir to our family’s titles means we are old enough to decide the fate of our people, yet we are treated like pretty little fools by our seniors.”
“Yes,” Durkhanai agreed. “Pretty little fools, indeed.”
“Though not fool enough to believe the Badshah orchestrated the attack,” Gulalai whispered, just loud enough for Durkhanai to hear.
“Laugh as though we are chatting about silly little nothings,” Durkhanai said through her grin, as though Gulalai had made the most hilarious remark. The ambassador mirrored her behavior, lightly tapping her arm.
“Clever little princess,” she said. “My father was injured badly; they aren’t sure he’ll walk again, but I know in my heart it wasn’t Marghazar.”
“And how could you know that?” Durkhanai asked.
“It’s much too obvious,” Gulalai replied, pretending to laugh still. “I’m infuriated by my father’s injury, of course—but I believe you and your family. Somebody is trying to frame Marghazar. And I don’t wish for my people to die in a false war.”
“Frame Marghazar—” began Durkhanai, but Gulalai cut her off.
“Let’s chat over chai, sometime,” Gulalai said, leaning forward to kiss both her cheeks.
Durkhanai mirrored the action. From the outside, they appeared as two young girls, gossiping about silly things. But Gulalai’s voice lowered to a sincere warning, one that sent a chill down Durkhanai’s spine.
“Until then, be careful around Asfandyar-sahib,” she whispered. “He’ll bring you nothing but ruin.”
Before Durkhanai could ask for elaboration, Gulalai was swept away by a noblewoman. Heart hammering, Durkhanai tried to understand if she could truly trust Gulalai or not.
She needed to acquaint herself further with both ambassadors before passing any judgments. But there was no time to consider where to place her trust because her grandmother was excusing herself, following a servant out of the room.
Strange. Her grandmother never slipped away from formal occasions such as this. Whatever it was, it had to be pertinent. Outside the hall, she followed the barely audible voices to a secret alcove in a darkened hallway. Her grandmother was speaking to a dirty soldier, streaked in mud and blood. But it was his face that frightened Durkhanai: he looked like he’d been kissed by death.
“Dhadi?” Durkhanai asked. Only close family members were permitted to bypass formal titles for more personal names.
Upon seeing the princess enter, the soldier bowed his head with respect and excused himself.
“Dhadi?” she asked, voice low. “What happened?”
Her grandmother placed a hand on Durkhanai’s face, smiling a forlorn smile.
“Meri jaan,” she said, not to worry her. “You don’t fret, go back to the party, attend to those in your court.”
“Dhadi,” Durkhanai repeated. Her grandmother sighed.
“I had called for soldiers from the front lines to fortify Safed-Mahal with the onset of our visitors,” she explained. “But it seems our Lord has taken them back from this world.”
“They’re all—” Durkhanai began, trailing. She couldn’t finish the thought, let alone the sentence. Dhadi nodded.
“They’re all dead.”
“But how—”
“Don’t worry, gudiya,” her grandmother assured her. “Allah will provide for us.”
With a kiss to Durkhanai’s cheek, Dhadi left, back to the party, leaving Durkhanai alone with her thoughts. All their soldiers in the north, dead? It would mean sending more from within their lands to the frontlines, thinning the security they had within.
But how could they all have perished? The Kebzu Kingdom had great fighters, but never had Marghazar suffered such great losses. Perhaps—
Something shifted in the air behind her.
“Dhadi?” she called. A shadow flickered beside hers.
But when she turned, she was alone.
Chapter Three
In her sunroom, the weather was warm, full of birds chirping and rustling leaves. From the window, the land on a mountain cut with vertical slices that looked like fingers reaching toward the sky, toward something unreachable.
But they got close.
Maids entered and set the table for tea. Fine porcelain from the far east was laid out, along with potato samosas and chickpea curry to go on top, along with tamarind chutney. There was a steaming pot of chai and various little finger foods to go along with it: Durkhanai’s favorite almond pastries and flaky biscuits.
“God, this place is gorgeous,” Gulalai said, entering loudly, her cane clunking against the marble floor. “Marghazar truly has a knack for finery. I haven’t seen anything so grand in any of the zillas.”
“Shukria,” Durkhanai responded. She wondered about the other zillas; she had never been.
But she didn’t need to go. Marghazar was enough for her.
“Your wealth is truly astounding,” Gulalai said, taking a seat with a labored sigh. “Tell me about your grandfather, the great Ghazan Miangul of the Ranizais tribe, the boy king of legend. It’s nearly fifty years of rule now, isn’t it?”
“Yes . . . well, what else do you want to know?” Durkhanai responded. “The Luhgam Empires slaughtered his elder brothers and father. That’s how he became king. Fifty years later, and here we are.”
She didn’t want to say anymore. She wanted the truth of her family to stay cloaked for all eternity. The truth of the trauma Agha-Jaan faced, of tragedy and sorrow and sudden power. It was under him that Marghazar came to encompass S’vat, Trichmir, and Dirgara, under him that Marghazar became a hegemony among the zillas.
After his coronation, it was true Agha-Jaan became a little mad with grief and vengeance. The Badshah had been fighting the Luhgam Empire ever since, and no matter how many battles were won, he was insatiable. She knew he needed victory to avenge his family’s deaths. She knew he would stop at nothing until then.
And yes, sometimes she disagreed with how hard he pushed, how stubborn he was, but he was everything to her. Durkhanai would do anything for her Agha-Jaan.
“Fine, don’t say anything more,” Gulalai responded. She set her cane to the side as a servant poured her some tea. “Now time for some reiterated advice that I don’t think you understood the first time: stay away from Asfandyar-sahib of Jardum. I saw him follow after you when you left the banquet yesterday.”
Durkhanai’s heart ricocheted against her ribs. Asfandyar had followed her? But she hadn’t even seen him. She opened her mouth in protest, but Gulalai put up a hand.
“Oh, save me the excuses,” she said, stirring sugar into her tea. “I believe you can handle yourself, but he is handsome and charming. Anyone is capable of being a fool for love, even you, Shehzadi.”
Feeling exposed, Durkhanai narrowed her eyes.
“I already know the man I am to marry,” she said quickly, thinking of Rashid. She wasn’t a fool. “He is the son of a nobleman from our court: he is of good family. And . . . kind and smart.”
“You’re engaged?” Gulalai asked, biting into a cookie. “Fascinating.”
Durkhanai shook her head. “It is understood.”
“And what of love?”
“It will come. With time, respect, and effort, I will grow to love my husband, wh
oever he is. But my duty is first and foremost to my people.”
She was a princess; she had to do what was best for her people.
“I would still be careful around that Jardum boy, though,” Gulalai advised. “People love to spread horrid rumors.”
“Don’t worry,” Durkhanai told her.
She was unbothered by the thought of rumors. The people wouldn’t believe such filth. They knew Durkhanai wouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t have the courage to admit to upfront. Besides, the people were better than that. They weren’t malicious and gossipy.
“Anyways, let’s talk about what you said,” Durkhanai said, biting into a biscuit. “We must stop this impending war before it comes.”
The Badshah had three months to prove his innocence or there would be war. Until then, she hoped the ambassadors could be sated by hospitality.
“It is my opinion that somebody is trying to frame Marghazar,” Gulalai said. “It’s much too obvious for the Badshah to be behind the summit attack.”
“Yes, but who?” Durkhanai asked. “I can’t figure it out. Who has anything to gain from this?”
“I can’t see what anyone has to gain from the summit explosion or the war they are all calling for,” Gulalai said. “My father doesn’t wish to go to war, either, but if it is what the rest of the zillas have agreed upon, my father won’t refuse his allies. And I believe B'rung is the same.”
“Whereas Jardum and Teerza do seem a bit enthusiastic for war, don’t they?”
“Theoretically, Teerza and Jardum should be in the clear, since their walis passed,” Gulalai responded. “They couldn’t have planned the summit explosion as grounds for war because it was their own who were injured.”
“Theoretically,” Durkhanai agreed, waving for more tea. “But isn’t the enemy usually the one in plain sight?”
Which made her think: what made her so sure Gulalai and the Kurra zilla were innocent? Their wali had been injured, yes, but not killed. And Gulalai was making a great show of being her friend.
“A fair point,” Gulalai said. “But Teerza was heading the summit. Why attack their own meeting, in their own homeland?”
“Teerza is also conservative, and I know they have problems with some of the Badshah’s rulings,” Durkhanai added. “But they’re the strongest military zilla. If they wanted to fight, they would skip this negotiation nonsense and go straight to war.”
They would lose, but wars rarely had any purpose other than harm.
“What would be the point of making Marghazar look guilty?” Gulalai stirred her tea pensively. “Despite how much the other zillas might detest Marghazar, you are still the strongest zilla. We surely hoped to eventually convince your grandfather to join us, once we were all united. It is why the ambassadors have just been negotiating simple things, like goods or more accessibility—we’re taking advantage of the three months we are here.”
“And even then, on the request of Marghazar,” Durkhanai said. “It was the Badshah who offered to accept ambassadors in order to gain time to prove our innocence and appease the other zillas.”
“The ambassador from B'rung, Palwasha-sahiba, is a bit elusive . . . I can’t get a good read on her. But I don’t know where this leaves us.” Gulailai rubbed her temples. “I have a headache.”
They looked at one another and sighed. They were going in circles with no true evidence. Their biscuit supply had long since dwindled, and the warmth of the morning was thickening with afternoon.
“It definitely wasn’t Marghazar,” Durkhanai said. “That much I know.”
“And it definitely wasn’t Kurra,” Gulalai added. “That much I know.”
“I believe you, but Gulalai, tell me this: how can I trust you?” Durkhanai asked. It was just the two of them in Durkhanai’s sunroom. She regarded Gulalai closely, staring into her warm brown eyes.
“Simple.” Gulalai tore into a samosa. “Because I want your favor and I intend on gaining it through friendship and loyalty. Kurra does not have want or need for much, and I do not intend to achieve anything through conniving. I wish for us to be sister tribes, one day. Whatever you offer through goodwill is enough for me.”
“What if we have nothing to offer?” Durkhanai responded.
“Shehzadi, you mustn’t bother with false pretenses,” Gulalai said with a smile. “All the mountains know of your soft spots and kindness. Even if the Badshah and my father see no use in an alliance at the present, I think one day you and I will benefit from it. Besides, I don’t think you want war between our zillas, and neither do I.”
Durkhanai nodded.
“And to prove my loyalty, here is a secret: Jardum and Teerza have become more brothers than cousins,” Gulalai said.
“What exactly does that mean?” Durkhanai asked.
“I can’t say more, for Jardum is Kurra’s ally as well,” Gulalai responded. “And even that I shouldn’t have said, but take it as a token of my commitment to an alliance with Marghazar. Keep an eye on Teerza.”
“I will,” Durkhanai said. “Thank you for the warning. “As for our alliance, only time will tell,” she added, but she had a good feeling about it. Her gut wasn’t very often wrong.
“Have you considered the possibility of it being the Kebzu Kingdom?” Gulalai said after some consideration. “I’ve given it much thought, and they would have an incentive—keep our zillas weak so that we cannot become more effective at fighting them. It’s a similar incentive to Marghazar’s.”
“The Kebzu Kingdom only pushes on Marghazar’s borders in the north,” Durkhanai replied. “Why would they care if the southern zillas unified?”
“Perhaps they would see it as a future threat?” Gulalai responded. “If Marghazar joined the unified zillas in the future and pushed back harder on the northern border?”
“Hm,” Durkhanai said. “You bring up valid points. But how would they have known about it at all? The summit was only known to the five walis, particularly the date and location.”
“So it had to have been a wali.” Gulalai bit her lip. “I wish I had been there. Perhaps I could have gauged something better.”
“Do you know all the walis personally?” Durkhanai asked. “I’ve never met any of them.”
“We’re acquainted, but I don’t know them that well,” Gulalai replied. She considered something for a moment, then shook her head. “But do you know who does know them all quite well? And who was at the summit?”
Durkhanai had a sinking feeling she already knew the answer.
“Asfandyar-sahib.”
Durkhanai sighed as Gululai continued.
“If anybody will know something, it’ll be him.”
Chapter Four
The clouds kissed Durkhanai’s cheeks. It brought her peace.
Nature reminded her of the princess that she was. She could handle this and all that was to come.
Some days after the arrival of the ambassadors, she gathered the people at court for a walk through the mountains. When it came to hospitality, what better way to be kind than to show the foreigners the beauties of her lands? She arranged for all the ambassadors to join her, along with some Marghazar nobles and a few of her cousins, though not Laila Baji and the baby, sadly. Her niece’s soft giggles would have pacified Durkhanai’s discontented mood, which was even worse because her cousins Zarmina and Saifullah still had yet to arrive.
Durkhanai walked behind everyone, more comfortable with them all in her sight. Gulalai was busy chatting with Palwasha-sahiba—the ambassador from B’rung—about road designs. The ambassador from Teerza, Rukhsana-sahiba, walked alone.
When Durkhanai approached to make polite conversation, Rukhsana-sahiba fixed her with a glare so sharp that Durkhanai spun away with childish spite and refused to speak with her.
That left Asfandyar.
She very purposefully did not initiate contact with Asfandyar, who looked even better against the backdrop of mountains during the soft morning. His wool pakol sat crooked on his head, allowing
some curls to sit on his forehead under the cap. He was in black shalwar kameez once more, though this time adorned with a metal gray chaadar.
Not that Durkhanai noticed, of course.
She was far too preoccupied with appreciating her beautiful land. Green grass stretched across the hills like plush velvet. The trees looked like little shrubs one could pick from the landscape like flowers from the earth, so soft and small like moss.
It eased her heart, ever so slightly, until her gaze strayed once more to Asfandyar.
He’ll bring you nothing but ruin, Gulalai’s words rang in her mind. But Durkhanai could handle herself.
Gulalai was also the one to observe that he was one of the only people who might be able to help untangle their questions about what had happened at the summit, so perhaps her advice was contradictory.
If somebody truly was trying to frame Marghazar, Durkhanai needed to find out who and why.
The Badshah and Wali were hard at work trying to draft negotiations and even harder at work trying to find evidence to prove their innocence, but what evidence would there have been?
If it was the Kebzu Kingdom behind the attack, they must have been informed by one of the zilla’s walis. The walis that Durkhanai knew nothing about.
But Asfandyar was friends with them all.
Perhaps she needed to make an ally out of him after all.
If she could get him to trust her, perhaps he could give her information about the summit, which could lead her to figure out who was behind the attack. He didn’t seem bloodthirsty for war—perhaps he wished for peace as well.
What had he said? That his life was of value to the wali of Jardum—if that was so, he must have been close to the wali and her family.
Durkhanai looked at him again, this time considering him closely: the way the sun shone off his high cheekbones; the long, curled eyelashes; the plump, soft lips; the thicket of ebony curls. His height, his build. He looked like a warrior, face harsh and . . . sad.
He turned, catching her staring.
The Lady or the Lion Page 3