The Lady or the Lion

by Aamna Qureshi

  “There’s no need for that, gudiya,” Dhadi replied, caressing her cheek. “I suggest you focus on what you do best, which is caring so lovingly for your people.”

  “I’d like to try my hand at negotiating, Dhadi,” Durkhanai said, voice sweet. “Perhaps I can talk to Palwasha-sahiba?”

  “I said there is no need,” Dhadi said, voice stern. She gave Durkhanai a pointed look.

  “Yes, Dhadi.”

  “You are staying away from that Jardum boy, as I instructed?”

  Durkhanai nodded. “Of course,” she replied, tummy turning at the lie.

  “Good. Now you go on for the breakfast feast.” Dhadi kissed her cheek. “I will arrive promptly.”

  Durkhanai was dressed for the occasion, stacks of gold chudiyan on her arms, gold jhumkay hanging from her ears and a matching necklace on her neck. Fresh mehndi covered her hands and a dupatta was draped across her head, falling down to one shoulder. Honey wisps of hair framed her face, and as usual, she was the pretty little princess.

  Durkhanai went to stand between Saifullah and Zarmina in front of their chairs, the seat across from her empty until Asfandyar swooped in and pulled it out. His dimples made a brief appearance.

  “Did you see that?” Zarmina whispered. Durkhanai’s heart caught.

  “See what?” she asked innocently.

  “Rashid was coming to sit across from you, and Asfandyar took his place.”

  Durkhanai truly hadn’t noticed until Zarmina pointed it out. “That’s . . . strange.”

  “Immensely so,” Saifullah said. He gave Asfandyar a withering look, and Durkhanai elbowed him.

  “Zara sambhal kay,” she told him. “Relax.”

  “We need to focus on other things,” Zarmina whispered.

  “Hush now, you two,” Saifullah said, looking at Asfandyar. He wasn’t paying attention to them—or at least, he was trying very hard to make it look like he wasn’t paying attention.

  “Hello, friends,” Gulalai said, taking in the empty slot beside Asfandyar. He gave her a respectful nod, which she reciprocated. Durkhanai wondered what the alliance between their zillas was like. Whatever it was, the two ambassadors seemed comfortable around each other.

  A quick jab of jealousy pricked her, but she brushed it aside.

  She didn’t have time to think further. The Badshah had arrived with his wife by his side. Everybody lowered their heads in respect and sat after the Badshah had taken his seat. Durkhanai looked straight, which meant looking directly at Asfandyar.

  He looked her up and down and giving her the “wah, bhai,” head bob. She could read it clearly: he was pretending to be impressed by how extravagantly she was dressed, especially in contrast to how he saw her for the long hours of night. She responded by raising her chin in an I know fashion, ignoring his sarcasm. He shook his head with a little downturned smirk.

  In just a little over a month of knowing him, she could understand his expressions like it was their own private language.

  The Badshah entered, followed by his wife, and they all sat. The servants brought out plates of crisp parathas, glistening with ghee, accompanied with eggs spiced with red pepper and sauteed with long, thinly cut onions. Then came the fried puris, served with a yellow potato curry and an earthy chickpea curry. The Badshah began to eat, and the rest of the court followed.

  After eating, when everyone began to disperse, she noticed who paired off, and most interestingly of all, Asfandyar remained alone.

  It was strange, for he clearly knew how to navigate a crowd. He looked . . . lonely. Walking on his own, looking out the window, hand knotted in his curls.

  And Durkhanai knew she must have looked like that, in the months Zarmina was away from court and Laila Baji was busy in her own home and her grandparents were more king and queen and she had everybody to call her people but nobody to call her own. Loneliness had different shades, different scents and flavors.

  She somehow felt that she understood his.

  “Durkhanai, what are you doing?” Zarmina said, grabbing her arm. Durkhanai hadn’t even realized, but she was about to approach Asfandyar before Zarmina held her back.

  “What?” Durkhanai responded, playing it off. Zarmina shook her head.

  “Janaan . . .”

  “What?” Durkhanai feigned innocence.

  “Don’t act. I saw the way you two were looking at each other. He is our enemy; you must remember that. There’s a reason Dhadi forbade you from forming too close an acquaintance with him, but do you listen? No.”

  “Is he, though?” Durkhanai sighed.

  Zarmina gave an exasperated sigh.

  “I’m sorry,” Durkhanai said, taking Zarmina’s hands. “Let’s leave it.”

  “No,” she replied. “You always see the best in people even when there is none to see. But you must understand: Marghazar will never accept a foreigner. Especially, when Naeem-sahib has already set his eyes on you for his son. You know I want you to be happy, but you must use your common sense.”

  That was the problem: she lost all sense when it came to Asfandyar.

  “He is an enemy to our land,” Zarmina said sadly. “Don’t forget that.”

  But Durkhanai didn’t see him as an enemy to her. How could he be an enemy to her land? They were one in the same.

  “You’re right,” she said, not wanting Zarmina to worry. “I’m sorry for being prickly and unpleasant.”

  Zarmina shook her head. “No, stop. I’m sorry for being harsh—I’m just looking out for you, you know. I don’t want you to be made a fool of.”

  “I won’t,” Durkhanai said sharply.

  Tears suddenly stung Durkhanai’s eyes. She felt entirely misunderstood and like she never would be understood.

  “Oh, Durkhanai,” Zarmina said, voice soft. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Durkhanai nodded, waving her off, trying to ignore the contradictory truth: that she was a chubby crybaby but hated being treated as one.

  “Zarmina, stop bothering our dear cousin,” Saifullah said, coming to join them. “Come, Durkhanai, let’s go riding. It has been so long.”

  She went with him outside, toward the stables. The mountains were greener now, plush fields of velvet, and the weather was quiet and beautiful, only a little cloudy. The warmest months of the year always took too long to arrive, then left so quickly when they did. Durkhanai couldn’t see too far into the distance anymore, but the strong and solid mountains remained constant and sure.

  They saddled up and began the ride. Her horse, Heer, seemed apprehensive today, and maybe she was reflecting it off of Durkhanai’s own body language. Durkhanai forced herself to relax.

  “What did Zarmina say to upset you?” Saifullah asked after some time.

  “Nothing, bas vasai,” Durkhanai replied quickly.

  Saifullah sighed. He wasn’t saying much, and although he had always been quiet, this was an added layer of silence. Even when he had difficulty communicating, she could always understand the emotions on his face, the thoughts in his mind.

  “Is something the matter?” she asked. “I’ve hardly seen you.”

  “You’ve been too busy,” he muttered.

  “Sorry?”

  “I’ve been busy,” he said, clearing his throat.

  “With what exactly?”

  He gave her a pointed look, and here, with the mountains and sky as a backdrop, she realized suddenly what a man he had become, a thick beard covering his face. And something deeper: dark circles under his eyes, something somber and sad in his expression.

  “I’ve been watching the ambassadors,” he told her. “Learning. Contemplating.” He gave a pause, deciding on his next words. “Trying to save our people and our land.”

  He sounded bitter, almost accusatory.

  “If you want to say something,” she said sharply, “just say it.”

  He looked at her, gaze heavy. “Do you think perhaps the Badshah is wasting his efforts? Against the Lugham Empire?” he asked, vo
ice hesitant. “That perhaps he is being blinded by vengeance at the cost of his own people.”

  “How could you say that?” Durkhanai asked. “Everything Agha-Jaan does is for his people.”

  “Yes, but intentions and actions do not always align in their purity.”

  Durkhanai furrowed her brow. Where was this coming from? Saifullah had never been so discontented before.

  “Forget it.” He smiled at her in a way that said she would never understand.

  Durkhanai felt like she was disappointing him, somehow, but she couldn’t tell how. Before she could prod him further, he rode ahead, leaving her, heart stinging. She could have caught up, but she didn’t.

  She just watched the distance between them grow and felt a greater distance in what she knew and what he was telling her.

  The feeling only grew that evening, when she was wandering her marble halls, and found Saifullah suddenly slipping out of a narrow hall. She was far enough away that he didn’t see her, though he did look around to make sure he hadn’t been caught before hurrying along.

  Durkhanai approached where he had come from and realized how he had suddenly appeared: he had exited one of the passageways.

  Perhaps it was a coincidence, she told herself. But she thought about where that passageway led, specifically, just in case.

  The clearest path from there led to the eastern part of the palace, where many of the rooms for guests were.

  It was also where all the ambassadors were staying.

  Durkhanai didn’t understand. Hadn’t he said he’d been busy? What exactly did that mean? She told herself she would ask Saifullah about it later, find out who he had gone to see or what he had gone to do.

  For now, she saw her grandmother approaching and met her halfway.

  “What are you up to, meri jaan?” Dhadi asked, kissing both her cheeks.

  “Mm, just wandering,” Durkhanai replied, cuddling into her grandmother’s side. “What about you?”

  Her grandmother gave a dramatic sigh. “Tumhe toh pata hai. Work never ends. I’m off to see Doctor Aliyah and discuss medicine distribution.”

  Durkhanait stilled. Was that a pointed comment?

  “Oh. Good.” Durkhanai forced an innocent smile. “How is that going?” She bit the inside of her mouth. She hoped nobody had noticed the missing vials. Or if they had, that they would not suspect her.

  “We are giving priority to those families with their men on the front,” Dhadi explained. “While more medicine is being made.” She paused, looking at Durkhanai intently. “It is a very meticulously set up system.”

  One that Durkhanai was interfering in. Durkhanai swallowed. “Good idea.”

  What would she say if Dhadi asked about the “guardian angel”? She had lied to Rashid, but she did not know if she could do the same with Dhadi, or even if she could do it plausibly.

  “I know you do not understand why we are not distributing it all immediately,” Dhadi said. “But you must trust that we know what we are doing.”

  “Of course, Dhadi,” Durkhanai said, hoping she did not look as guilty as she felt. “I understand.”

  “I am glad that you do.” Dhadi smiled. She reached over and pinched Durkhanai’s stomach. “Do I need to have Doctor Aliyah send you more vitamins? You’re too thin.”

  Durkhanai let out a startled cry. “Dhadiiii,” she replied with a pout. “I am more than healthy.”

  “I’ll have the cooks make you halwa drenched in ghee, that’ll do you good,” Dhadi replied, unbelieving. “And I won’t hear anything more.”

  “Acha, okay, Dhadi,” Durkhanai agreed, releasing a little laugh. Her grandmother looked at her closely. Heart beating fast, Durkhanai called on every ounce of willpower she had not to look away—doing so would surely raise Dhadi’s suspicions.

  Instead, Durkhanai smiled reassuringly. Dhadi pinched her cheeks, dark eyes warm.

  “Acha, chiriya,” her grandmother replied. “Now I’m off. Go, gudiya, continue your wandering. Let your heart lead the way; you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually.”

  Her grandmother left her to attend to some important matters, not taking Durkhanai along with her.

  She released a long breath. Durkhanai pressed a hand to her heart, trying to steady its rapid beating. Guilt needled through her to be deceiving her grandmother, but what choice did she have?

  Taking measured breaths, Durkhanai went to the window. The wind sent her open hair into a frenzy of honeyed curls around her face, and she let it, inhaling the fresh air.

  A little while later, another joined her.

  He rested his hand on the sill beside her legs, and she noticed his beard had grown in longer. The setting sun made his face glow golden, his eyelashes casting long shadows onto his cheeks.

  He said nothing. Neither did she. They just kept one another company, and any unpleasantness she had felt that day drifted far, far away. Zarmina’s worry and Saifullah’s disappointment, it all faded away, like clouds after losing their rain.

  Asfandyar turned to look at her, and when he smiled a soft smile, her heart felt full like she had just drunk the sweetest cup of chai on a cold afternoon.

  She had read about love: the all-consuming kind. She had always been in awe of it, sort of like it was magic, almost like it wasn’t real. And she so desperately wanted it to be real.

  Later that night, standing on her balcony, the night air was a warm embrace. May brought with it the sweet and endless days covered in a soft rose gold sheen. Leaning on the railing, a sigh escaping her lips, Durkhanai wondered.

  She wondered and wondered and wondered, looking up to the stars, sprinkled across the horizon like raw sugar, and she plucked them from the sky, let them melt in her mouth.

  If she stuck out her tongue, would it be stained gold with starlight or navy from the night sky?

  Chapter Twelve

  A few days passed without any further leads regarding Palwasha-sahiba. Then, while Durkhanai was taking a stroll, she noticed Palwasha-sahiba and Rukhsana-sahiba engaging in what seemed to be an intense debate. Palwasha-sahiba seemed tense, listing to one side as she spoke past her stutter.

  As Durkhanai neared to listen in, Rukhsana-sahiba noticed her presence. The pair quieted.

  “Shehzadi,” Palwasha-sahiba said, voice sweet. The ambassadors lowered their heads with respect, waiting for her to pass. Durkhanai was long out of hearing range when she turned and saw they had become talking once more, Rukhsana-sahiba angry and Palwasha-sahiba frustrated.

  It made sense.

  B'rung most probably did not want to be allies with Teerza and instead wanted to be allied with Marghazar, which would rightfully upset Rukhsana-sahiba.

  But Durkhanai was merely theorizing. To learn more, she went to Rukhsana-sahiba’s room. It was a little rude to come unannounced and uninvited, but this was her palace. She would not be ignored again.

  “I’ve called for kava,” Durkhanai said, smiling. Rukhsana-sahiba looked up from her desk, where she was reading through correspondence.

  “Shehzadi,” she said. “I must say I am in no mood for tea at the moment.”

  “Then perhaps you will keep me company.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Durkhanai made herself comfortable in the seating area of Rukhsana-sahiba’s room, motioning for the maids to bring the green tea in. A maid poured her a glass and stirred in sugar. With a resigned sigh, Rukhsana-sahiba came and joined her, nodding to have tea poured for herself as well.

  “And to what do I owe this immense pleasure?” Rukhsana-sahiba replied, sitting across from her. Her lips turned upwards, but it was a poor attempt at a smile. Rukhsana-sahiba was a middle-aged woman, face slightly wrinkled, but her dark brown eyes were sharp.

  “I just thought we’d chat,” Durkhanai replied, fingers warming from the teacup. “I’d like to know if you knew anything about the tragedy of the summit attack—the sooner we find the true culprit, the sooner this awfulness of war threats can cease.”

  “Tra
gedy?” Rukhsana-sahiba repeated. She blinked. When she spoke again, her voice steel. “Do not sit here and pretend to understand my grief, Shehzadi. You did not see the blood of your brother staining his dreams.”

  So, the Wali of Teerza had been her brother—that ruled out Teerza being involved in any way.

  “Though you may not trust me at my word, I truly am sorry for your loss,” Durkhanai said, voice gentle. “We are not your enemies. I assure you. We wish to discover who was behind that egregious attack just as much as you do.”

  “Your honeyed words will have no effect on me.” Rukhsana-sahiba shook her head. “Perhaps, instead of attempting to wheedle information from me, you should be a good little Shehzadi and focus on your people,” Rukhsana-sahiba’s expression sharpened. “I hear whispers of unrest because of the wars against the Luhgams in the east and the Kebzus in the north. A shame, really.” She smiled, then sipped her kava.

  Durkhanai pressed her teeth together. This again, with the joining of tribes into a united nation. Even united, Marghazar would be barely stronger and probably, inversely, would be weaker from carrying the other zillas’ weight.

  “It is a thing to consider,” Durkhanai said, trying not to be hostile. It seemed the conversation was over. She stood, telling herself to give Rukhsana-sahiba a chance. A united nation was Teerza’s main objective. Of course she would be pressing for it, even now.

  Despite how antagonizing Rukhsana-sahiba was, Durkhanai still wanted to believe she was good at heart. Durkhanai tried to see it from her perspective. Rukhsana-sahiba was just looking out for her people, same as Durkhanai. Plus, the Shehzadi was young and impetuous and spoiled in her eyes. It must be difficult for an older woman to speak to a teenager.

  “Khudafiz,” Durkhanai said, taking her leave. Ruhsana-sahiba nodded, lowering her head in respect. Only when Durkhanai reached the door did she offer her parting words.

  “If only Marghazar had allies in the other zillas,” Rukhsana-sahiba said. “If we were all united as one nation, we would be undefeatable.”