Chapter 11

Family dinners had been a tradition in the Shian household for as long as Rito could remember. Ordinarily, she always looked forward to them.

Her father had always been a busy man, and as she and Abhi got older, there were few occasions for them to spend time together as a family. Having dinner together gave them an opportunity to do just that. And whenever the siblings were in Qayit, they made it a point to always be home for dinner, whenever possible.

It had been two weeks since her arrest, and in that time these dinners had become more of a chore than a pleasure. The atmosphere was always tense, awkward, and she couldn't help feeling a little on edge whenever she and Abhijat were in the same room together.

Their parents knew nothing of what'd happened, and both she and Abhi planned to keep it that way. Rajat and Lyani had enough on their plates already, the last thing they needed was to have one more thing to worry about.

That night, Jehan had dropped her off at a park a few minutes' walk from her home, and had made her promise not to tell Abhijat about their meeting. She could see the logic of that; knowing Jehan had bailed his sister out would only make Abhijat more suspicious of him.

And of course, Abhi had every reason to be suspicious. She'd have been too, in his place.

The problem was, all of this made it mighty hard for her to do what she needed to. She'd told her brother that it'd all been a misunderstanding, that Dileep Haval had retracted his statement to the police and had gotten her out once everything had been cleared up.

But it was a flimsy lie with a million holes and inconsistencies; Rito had never pretended to be a good liar. She could tell he didn't believe her, not completely. And if he hadn't been keeping a close eye on her before, he certainly was now.

Even if he didn't think she was lying to him, he definitely did think she'd been duped and manipulated by Haval and Fasih. Really, she didn't know whether she'd rather be a fool or a liar in his eyes.

The table had been set by Abhi and their mother by the time Rito entered the dining room with Rajat. The number of servants in their home had dwindled steadily ever since the death of her grandfather, and after Rajat's resignation their mother had dismissed all but the oldest members of the staff.

It wasn't so much that they couldn't afford the expense, but she enjoyed the extra privacy, and none of them particularly minded having to do the vacuuming and set the table every once in a while. Rito had never done any chores before she left home for college, and she kind of enjoyed the novelty of it.

Dinner was served, and they spent the first few minutes catching up, making small-talk. Rito wasn't used to keeping secrets, especially not from her family, the people she loved and trusted most in the world.

It made conversations harder, always having to be careful of what she said. She wasn't particularly good at it. She wondered if she should take lessons from Fasih. He seemed to be a master of doublespeak, spoke it like his mother-tongue. Perhaps her brother was right not to trust him after all.

Soon, the conversation shifted to politics, as it always did, sooner or later. In particular, Rajat wanted to know about the situation in parliament and the upcoming New Year's party in Maralana.

Jehan's popularity had climbed steadily ever since the resolution of the dam dispute between Eraon and Ishfana and the signing of the water-sharing agreement between the two states. Even his old critics had begun praising his initiative and his innovative approach to conflict resolution.

"They aren't wrong, really," Rajat said, idly mixing curry with his rice. "I mean, if I'd known the boy had such a knack for politics, I'd have gotten him involved with the party sooner.

"He just never showed any interest in political affairs; only voted in the last election because Ruqaiya told him to." He shook his head, frowning. "Still, no one can deny that he's doing good work.

"He resolved the Vanya dam issue and prevented a water crisis in Eraon, which would probably have cost the exchequer millions and ravaged the state for years. And if I understand things correctly, he also did play a significant role in dismantling that club in Weritlan that was using Amven for child trafficking."

Abhijat sneered. "And I'm sure Rinisa Rayeek has her name on half a dozen charities and orphanages. That means nothing. Everything he's doing is just a front for something far more sinister than anyone can see at the moment. Fasih and his coterie can't be trusted."

"And you know all this because?" Rajat raised a brow, looking inquiringly at his son. "Look Abhi, I know you're angry with him. And I'm not saying your anger isn't justified. I was furious with him for months because of what he did.

"But I've known Jehan since he was a boy. And while it's true he can be an annoying, conniving little shit, I've never known him to be malicious. I still don't agree with his methods, but you can't deny he's done a lot of good since he became prime minister. And he cleaned out a lot of corruption in the administration, something I should've done while I still sat on that chair."

Abhijat nearly jumped out of his seat. "You can't possibly blame yourself for his betrayal–"

"Of course I don't," Rajat raised a hand, gesturing for the younger man to calm down. "But I also can't deny the fact that I spent years trusting the wrong people, allowing them to influence decisions and policies that affected the whole country. Members of my Cabinet had received bribes from Maralana, I should've known that.

"I didn't sit on that chair for personal gain, or because I enjoy wearing a paper crown and smiling for the cameras. Ministers are supposed to serve the people, Abhi," he said softly. "And if Jehan Fasih is doing a better job of it than I did, I'd be a hypocrite not to accept it and cheer him on."

"You may have entered politics to serve the nation, but I can assure you that Fasih doesn't share your motivations," Abhijat snapped. "Did you know that his family lost their fortune because of grandpa's land redistribution drive? His father shot himself in front of his eyes. Is it really so unimaginable that he might want some revenge? Like you said, Papa, you spent years trusting the wrong people. Did it ever occur to you that your beloved child prodigy might've been one of those people you trusted more than you should've?"

Rito could see from her brother's face that he regretted his words almost as soon as they were out of his mouth. He hadn't meant to snap at their father, but a shorter than average fuse was something of a Shian family trait. She knew all too well what it felt like to say things she didn't mean, knowing all the while that she'd regret it in the future.

She'd expected Papa to lash out at Abhijat, to rebuke him in some way. This was, after all, still a sensitive subject for him. But Rajat just smiled ruefully and shook his head.

"It's toxic Abhi, this resentment," he said at length, looking up to meet his son's eyes. "It's natural to resent being deceived, being taken advantage of. But prejudice knows no bounds, and it can make good people do bad things.

"Your grandfather is the perfect example of that, actually…how prejudice can make you do terrible things with the best of intentions. It can make you self-righteous, to the point that you justify horrific cruelty with a sense of misplaced victimhood.

"You say that Jehan wants revenge for what happened to his father, and maybe he does. But have you ever considered, my dearest son, that that may be more true of you than it is of him?"

"Has Qia been in touch with you, yet?" Rito asked Abhijat, trying to diffuse the tension in the room. "How much longer does she plan to stay in Weritlan?"

Ruqaiya had left for Weritlan over a week ago, for a meeting with some local politicians who were reportedly close to Badal's family. Rito didn't know much about it, but from what little Abhi had said, she thought Qia might be looking into some of Badal's dealings with Maganti, particularly in the time he was Deputy PM.

"It's strange how little you can know about someone you've worked with for years." Rajat shook his head. "Badal had always been a little short-sighted, sometimes even arrogant, but I'd never have suspected him of treason."

"Well, he certainly wasn't the only viper you were nurturing in your bosom," Abhijat muttered, but there was no bite in his voice. He seemed resigned to being the voice of reason everyone ignored.

"But surely, Ruqaiya will be back before you leave for Maralana, Abhi?" Lyani said, passing round the dessert. "Both she and Fasih can't be away from the capital at the same time."

"I guess not," Abhi said, digging into his ras-malai. "Besides, I daresay much of this mess will be untangled once we get to Maralana."

Rito hoped he was right. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep lying to them. "I'm going too," she said, bracing herself.

As she'd expected, the reactions ranged from surprise to outrage.

"Really? But why?" asked her father, frowning.

"Absolutely not," said Abhijat.

"You'd better pack lots of warm clothes," Lyani said. "Maralana can get terribly cold this time of year."

Rito waited for everyone to say their piece. Then she shrugged, trying to project a casual indifference she did not feel. "I've been invited by Professor Sinya Haval, who'll be visiting Maralana with her husband. I've always wanted to go there, so I thought it'd be a nice vacation. Besides, Abhi will be there, so there's really no reason to worry." She smiled sweetly at her brother, who was glaring daggers at her across the table.

Abhijat didn't trust Dileep Haval as far as he could throw him, Rito knew that. Perhaps the only way she could've made this worse was if she told him the truth, that she was going to Maralana not as Sinya's guest but as Jehan's spy.

She rubbed a hand over her eyes, pressing her lips together to suppress a sigh. This was exhausting. "I'm going to go turn on the TV," she said, walking out of the room as fast as she could without making it seem like she was running away.

***

"Badal is dead," Rito said, as the rest of the family filed into the drawing room.

She stared wide-eyed at the TV screen, where a news anchor was talking excitedly into the camera, trying to get in contact with her correspondent in Weritlan. Rito's ears were ringing, her heart thumping painfully against her ribs. This wasn't right. How could this have happened?

"What?" Rajat exclaimed, striding into the room. "That's impossible. I'd have known if he was unwell. What happened to him?"

"He wasn't unwell," Rito said, her mouth dry. "He was shot. Shot dead less than half a kilometer from his house."

"Who did it? Do they know yet?" Abhijat asked, sitting down on the sofa beside Rito.

She swallowed the bile that had risen to her throat. "Jehan Fasih, it seems."

A few minutes passed, during which all four of them gathered around the TV, Abhi and Rito curled up on one sofa while their parents occupied the other.

As the story unfolded, they learned that Badal had been shot dead on his way back from the market earlier that evening. Two bullets lodged in his skull, he had died on the spot; and his body had later been discovered in an alley by one of the gardeners who'd gone out looking for him, when he failed to return home on time or answer his phone.

Two suspects had been arrested by the local police in connection with the murder. Rumor had it, one of them had confessed to the crime, and during the interrogation had told the police that Jehan Fasih had hired him for the job.

None of this had yet been confirmed by the police, yet analysts and experts on the news program were already speculating if Fasih had ordered the killing to keep Badal from revealing secrets that could've jeopardized his premiership.

Apparently, reports had surfaced recently indicating that Badal had been gathering evidence that could've proved Rajat Shain's innocence, and Fasih's role in wrongfully defaming the former PM for personal gain.

How so much information had come to light in the less than twelve hours since Rito had last watched the news, she didn't know. It didn't matter, though. It made for good television, and the news channels were having a field day, with new and exciting bits of information coming in by the minute.

"I can't believe this," Lyani said, sitting back in the sofa and placing her head on her husband's shoulder. "And to think Qia is there right now. Do you think she spoke to Badal before..."

Her voice was drowned out by that of the news anchor, wondering who would represent Naijan at the New Year's gala in Maralana, if Fasih was arrested for murder.

Rajat scoffed. "This is bullshit. A smear campaign if ever I saw one. They couldn't even wait for the police to make a statement, bloody hyenas. Not that I'd trust the police in Weritlan with an investigation like this one."

"Why's it so hard to believe that after everything he's done, Fasih might just go the extra mile and shoot someone in the head?" Abhijat muttered. "Or at least, arrange for them to be shot in the head. Sounds just like him, if you ask me."

Rajat frowned disapprovingly at his son. "Of course it's not hard to believe that Jehan might off Badal. What is hard to believe is that he'd be so sloppy about it.

"This is what happens when you let yourself be blinded by hatred and resentment; you fail to see the obvious. Jehan Fasih is a lot of things, but incompetent isn't one of them. This wasn't his doing."

Abhijat looked at Rajat as if he didn't recognize his own father. Then, he grinned. "Okay, we'll go with that for now."

The scene on the TV shifted to an old footage of Badal announcing that he would be stepping down as deputy prime minister, looking for all the world like he'd swallowed a bottle of vinegar. Fasih stood behind him, smiling guilelessly for the cameras.

"If he submits to an investigation, he can't go to Maralana. And if he doesn't, he risks looking callous, even downright suspicious. If he really is innocent – and that's a big 'if' – it'd seem somebody's out to give Fasih a taste of his own medicine." Abhijat rose to his feet, sliding his hands into his pockets and baring his teeth in a smile that'd make a shark uncomfortable. "Interesting times are ahead."

***

"But what makes you so sure I didn't kill Badal?" Jehan asked Ruqaiya, pouring them both steaming cups of coffee.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since the news about Badal's death broke. Ruqaiya had just returned from Weritlan, and the two of them were sharing a pot of coffee and comparing notes in Jehan's office.

She shrugged, taking an appreciative sip of the beverage. "I've been investigating him for some time, you know. Even before I went to Weritlan myself. Ever since you told me Badal's daughter and son-in-law owned the La Fantome club, in fact. It's fascinating, really, how much he's managed to get away with over all these years, right under our noses."

"And?" Jehan raised an eyebrow.

"We managed to intercept some of his emails and phone calls. So I have a pretty clear idea about what he was doing the week before he died. That's actually why I decided to go to Weritlan in the first place. Things were…escalating faster than I'd expected them to."

"Things?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't play dumb, Fasih. You know as well as I do he wasn't trying to 'expose' you. He wasn't interested in you at all."

"No. I'd wager he was far more interested in Maganti than in me."

"That he was. For more than a month, he'd been having some…vehement disagreements with the Maralanese. And if he was threatening to expose anyone, it was Maganti."

"About the metro blasts?"

Ruqaiya smirked. "And here I thought I came bearing earth-shattering revelations."

"Sorry to burst your bubble. More coffee?" He poured some more of the beverage into her cup, then sat back in his chair. "I've known for a while now that Maralana had a hand in that attack. What I don't understand is why Badal should use it to threaten Maganti now, after all this time?"

"'Cause you spooked him, of course. He'd been promised he'd sit on the prime minister's chair before the year was out. Instead, you snuffed out his political career altogether and then took down the La Fantome club. And if that wasn't enough, Abhijat arrested that electrician, Sajal–"

"So Badal did hire him to mess with the wiring in the balcony. That explains a lot."

"He did. And he had every reason to expect some…dire repercussions if Sajal told the authorities everything he knew. Which is why he wanted out. He was demanding a large sum of money from Maralana. I guess he was planning to cut his losses and settle abroad. Somewhere that doesn't have an extradition treaty with Naijan."

"Good plan."

"Would've been, if not for the fact that Maganti seemed to think Badal was asking for more money than he was worth. Plus, I daresay the threats didn't endear him to the Maralanese either. Maganti doesn't strike me as the kind of man who'd take kindly to being blackmailed."

She tipped her head back and drained the cup. "In short, if anyone had an incentive to kill Badal at this time, it was Maganti."

"And framing me for the murder was just a bonus," Jehan said, vaguely impressed. "Two and a half birds with one stone."

"Two and a half?" Ruqaiya repeated.

Jehan shrugged. "Take both me and Badal out of the picture in one fell swoop, then get Rito alone in Maralana so Rinisa can retrieve the drug samples from her with minimum interference."

"What?"

"Ritadrija Shian. Abhijat's little sister. You know the girl."

"Stop messing with me Fasih," Ruqaiya snapped. "What the fuck does she have to do with any of this?"

"I thought you knew, given your considerable sleuthing skills. Rinisa blackmailed her into stealing a prototype of Amven from the QRI."

She frowned, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I see. So her arrest wasn't just you being a paranoid ass after all."

"Is that what you thought it was?" Jehan giggled. "Still more charitable than Abhijat's interpretation of the situation. Anyway, I had nothing to do with it. Dileep found a woman trying to pilfer drugs from one of the QRI labs and called the police. He didn't even recognize her. I had no idea any of this had happened until her brother came barging into my apartment with all the finesse of a rampaging gorilla."

"Your apartment?"

"I stay there sometimes when I have work to do. There are things I'd rather the secretaries didn't see, even by accident."

She snorted. "Like I said, paranoid."

"Never denied it."

"Well, Rinisa's dug her own grave this time. If she thinks she can get away with manipulating Rajat's daughter..." She shook her head. "I'm surprised she's still in one piece, considering Abhijat's track record."

"Oh, he doesn't know. I asked Rito not to tell him anything, yet."

"What? Why not?"

"'Cause I want her to keep Rinisa hanging. As long as she thinks Rito has those samples, she'll believe she has a chance of getting them. That'll keep her – and by extension, Maganti – in line until we get to Maralana."

"You're signing your own death warrant by messing with the Shian girl, you know that?"

"Messing with her?" he chuckled. "Gods, Ruqaiya, you make it sound downright sordid. She's a full-grown woman, although none of you seem to have noticed that yet. I asked for her help. If she didn't like it, she was free to refuse. It's not like I had her chained in my dungeon, forced to do my evil bidding."

"Tell that to Abhijat when he finds out you've been using his sister as bait for Rinisa and her Maralanese paramour. You'd be lucky if you don't find yourself chained in a dungeon first."

"Your concern is touching. Still, if I were you, I'd spend more time worrying about the actual murder than the hypothetical one. How did Maganti know enough about Badal's routine to be able to corner him alone? Badal wasn't exactly a careless guy. Last I checked, both his home and office were extremely secure, and he rarely went out alone."

Ruqaiya's scrutinizing gaze rested on him. "You think it was Rinisa, don't you?"

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table and fingers steepled in front of his eyes. "It'd make sense, wouldn't it? She was his daughter's sister-in-law. Technically, they were family; perhaps even friends, since they must have collaborated to some extent in the running of that club.

"I know for a fact that Badal stole the formula that was used to create the drug they were using on those kids. Of everyone involved with the La Fantome, he was the only one who had ever had access to the Amven research.

"So all things considered, it's not unlikely that she might've visited his house, might've known his routine and the general layout of the neighborhood."

"And after all that, she sold him out to Maganti."

"Would it surprise you?"

She sighed. "Not in the least."

"Anyway, the only way to prove any of this is to go to that goddamn New Year's gala. In fact, at this point, that's pretty much the only way to prove my innocence." Jehan groaned and buried his face in his hands. "God, do I ever hate being outmaneuvered!"

"You think that hitman's evidence will hold up in court? It's basically his word against yours."

"It doesn't matter. It's holding up in the media, and this is a democracy. Ergo, that's all that matters."

"And that might just be Rinisa's endgame, to get you impeached and out of this office before you can get anywhere near Maralana."

"Perhaps. But you know what's funny? I'd have expected you of all people to be excited about the prospect of me being kicked out and Rajat Shian reinstated as prime minister." He gasped. "Madam Dehran, don't tell me I've corrupted you!"

Ruqaiya rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Fasih. That fire in the balcony of your old office wasn't an accident, it was an assassination attempt. And we know that electrician was hired by Badal, but I don't think it was his idea, at least not entirely. So, there's a chance it might happen again. And if someone really is trying to assassinate the prime minister, I'd much rather you sit on that chair than Rajat."

"Heartwarming," he smiled sweetly. "It's a blessing you never tried diplomacy. You'd have started a war."

She smirked. "If you think I consider that an insult, you don't know me well enough. But what I don't understand is this. Why did Maganti invite Badal to Maralana if he meant to kill him?"

"Precisely because he meant to kill him, I'd say. Throws off the scent pretty nicely, doesn't it? Not that most people would've suspected him anyway, seeing as there's no obvious motive. But like you said, why invite someone you mean to put a bullet in, especially when you didn't have to?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "Well, that puts us in a bit of a pickle, doesn't it?"

"A bit? I was under the impression we were drowning in it."

"Semantics. The point is, you need to go to Maralana to know what Maganti's up to. And both Rinisa and Maganti will do everything in their power to ensure that you can't."

"And unfortunately for us, there's quite a lot that's in their power."

"Unless..."

Jehan's ears perked up at her tone. "Unless?"

"Unless you can give Rinisa a very good reason to want you out of Naijan."

"I'm listening."

"Rinisa risked antagonizing the Shian family by blackmailing Rito, and even she knows that's not a small risk to take. Despite the recent dip in their fortunes, they can cause her some real trouble if they put their minds to it."

"From what Rito said after I bailed her out, it seemed Rinisa was pretty desperate to have those samples back before the gala." He frowned. "What're you getting at?"

"I'm saying you should call another press conference."

Jehan's eyes lit up. "Much as I hate those things with a burning passion, I think you're on to something."

"Of course, the only purpose of the conference will be to officially proclaim your innocence vis-a-vis Badal's murder–"

"But I'll strongly imply that if forced to defend myself in court, I'll fully reveal the events of the La Fantome club, and Badal's involvement in it. Of course, I don't want to do that, as the case is still under investigation and the whole thing could be hamstrung by excessive media attention. So I'll only do it if I'm left with no other choice."

"And if the La Fantome case gets entangled with such a high-profile murder case," Ruqaiya continued with a grin, "Then all information about the drugs used at the club will soon become public. The fact that an Amven prototype was used for child trafficking will be the story of the decade. Any government that doesn't immediately ban usage of the drug will have a hell of a lot to answer for."

"Which means that even if Rinisa managed to get those samples to Maralana, they would be useless to Maganti. Even he wouldn't dare to authorize the use of Amven amidst an international outcry."

"No, he wouldn't. And I have a feeling, once all of that sinks in, Rinisa will be very invested in the continuation of your premiership. I'd bet you good money that hitman will change his tune before the weekend rolls around."

"Well, I'm glad I convinced you to be my deputy PM–"

"Coerced me, you mean."

"Semantics. The thing is, we were meant to work together!" He grinned. "We make a fantastic team. See, this would be a perfect plan, if not for the one teeny little loophole."

Ruqaiya raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"That both Rinisa and Maganti are murderous sociopaths? Until now, they were only trying to remove me from the premiership. But now that I'm about to make myself out to be a direct threat to them," he shrugged. "You know they'll try to kill me. And they'll have the perfect opportunity to do so in Maralana, when we're on Maganti's home turf. I'd be handing him my head on a platter when I step into that country."

"That's true," she said, tapping a pen against her chin. "Quite the dilemma. But look on the bright side. If you die in the service of the nation, you'd be a martyr. And if you're a martyr, they'll raise a statue of you at the entrance to this building."

"A pretty statue," he said decisively. "Promise me you won't let them build an ugly statue of me, Ruqaiya. I'm sure half the civil war heroes would've deserted if they knew what'd be done to their faces."

"Fine," she nodded solemnly, after a moment's consideration. "If Maganti puts a bullet in your skull, the least I can do is to ensure that it's immortalized as a pretty skull."

***

Jehan hated press meets.

You'd think he'd have gotten used to them by now, considering all the havoc they'd helped him wreak over the past year.

But nope, they were still suffocating, and too bright, and made him want to crawl under the nearest piece of furniture.

He picked up the glass in front of him and pretended to take a sip of water, using the time to take his eyes off the crowd of reporters and swallow the tightness in his throat.

He'd been walking this tightrope for almost a year now, and the damn rope seemed to get narrower every time he stood on it. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up without falling on his face and breaking his nose.

He'd spent the last hour answering questions about Badal's murder, arrested suspects, missing evidence, international conspiracies, and national security. All the while, trying to weave the slightest hints, the minutest references to the almost-forgotten La Fantome scandal into his answers, without going overboard or saying anything that might prompt too many follow-up questions.

It was an exhausting – and exhilarating – game to play, but there was too much at stake for him to truly enjoy himself. He'd never minded playing roulette with his own life, but now there were other people's necks on the line, and he didn't enjoy being weighed down by the additional responsibility.

Putting the glass down, Jehan raised his eyes once again to the gathered reporters, smiling invitingly and bracing himself for what was to come. It was time for the final act of his little charade.

A middle-aged journalist near the back of the room raised her hand. She was dressed in a white jacket, worn over a black and green checked shirt and gray slacks. With her hair pulled back in a tight, braided bun and a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles on her nose, she looked the picture of solemn respectability.

Jehan gestured for her to speak. She rose to her feet and smiled briefly at him. "Do you think former Prime Minister Rajat Shian could have had a hand in Badal's death? After all, it is a well-known fact that Badal supported your ascension to the premiership after Mr. Shian was forced to resign."

A flurry of excited murmurs filled the room. Jehan smiled tightly, leaned forward, and pretended to clear his throat. "Thank you for the question," he said, pulling the microphone towards him with steady hands.

"Rajat Shian and I have had our differences, as I'm sure you're all aware." He raised an eyebrow, prompting some awkward laughter from the gathered audience. "And there are plenty of things he has done that I disagree with, and always will.

"But, that doesn't change the fact that I've known Mr. Shian since I was fifteen, and I can say with absolute certainty that never once in all that time have I known him to intentionally hurt or undermine any of his colleagues or subordinates, even when it might've been considered justifiable. He saw them – us – as an extension of his own family.

"So to answer your question, no, I absolutely do not think that Rajat Shian had anything to do with what happened to Badal. Despite all his faults – and he has many – Mr. Shian never had anything but love and loyalty for his country and her people. And despite everything that's happened between us in recent months, I've never once had reason to doubt that."

For a few seconds, there was absolute silence. You could've heard a pin drop. Then, everyone started talking at once, asking questions, making speculations, and demanding answers.

Jehan let the bedlam continue for a minute, then raised a hand to get the room back under control. He looked over the crowd and pointed at a young man who'd been sitting quietly in the second to last row throughout the conference.

The young man – barely more than a boy, probably an intern or trainee – looked surprised to be acknowledged and nearly jumped to his feet. Taking the microphone in his hand, he stuttered, then blushed and stuttered some more.

Jehan smiled encouragingly at him, showing no signs of impatience. This, in turn, seemed to help him relax, and his stance became more confident, less anxious. "It's rare to see such candid admiration between opposing factions in politics these days," he said, his voice steady.

"These are difficult times for our country, for a variety of reasons." Jehan leaned forward, trying to look and sound sincere, earnest. Everything he wasn't. If they'd never believed a word he said before, he needed them to believe him now. "And now, more than ever, we need to stand by the truth.

"And the truth is that Rajat Shian's one of the greatest leaders Naijan has ever had, despite the fact that circumstances had conspired to put him in a position he couldn't control. But he was a strong and honest leader nonetheless, and right now, we're running severely short of those."

***

"You did good out there." Ruqaiya caught up with him moments before Jehan had exited the venue. They got into the car together, and she rolled up the screen separating the front of the vehicle from the back. "Touched on the La Fantome scandal, gave the press a gentle reminder without going overboard with it. Nicely done. All that remains is to see how Rinisa reacts."

Jehan hummed and retrieved a bottle from a pocket behind the front seat, drinking deeply. His throat was dry, but more importantly, he wasn't in the mood to be poked, prodded, and psychoanalyzed by his deputy.

"You know," Ruqaiya continued, glancing out the window and ignoring Jehan's silence. "The reporter who asked you that question…about Rajat." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her steal a quick glance at him. "I've never seen her before. And I know most reporters who've covered politics in Qayit for more than a few years, at least by face."

He shrugged. "She's probably new. Wasn't exactly polished, was she?"

"Or subtle. Though I had a feeling you didn't want her to be. People can be remarkably dense sometimes, and journalists are no exception. You have to hit them over the head with drama to make sure they got the point."

Jehan let his eyes widen in innocent surprise, his mouth dropping open. "Are you suggesting I planted her there?"

"I'm not suggesting anything. You're the one doing all the suggesting. So you tell me."

"Okay. Fine. She's a friend of mine." He rolled his eyes. "What's your point?"

"I don't have a point. Just a question. Why did you want to raise that topic today?"

"Well, someone was bound to say it sooner or later." He sagged into his seat and stared pensively out of the window. "I spent the entire press conference saying that someone was trying to frame me for Badal's murder, that I was innocent.

"And while that's true enough, who has the most reason in the world to set me up, to want to see me ruined? In the eyes of the common man, who stands to benefit the most if I just happen to lose my position? Rajat, of course. He has every reason to hate me, and almost as much reason to hate Badal."

Ruqaiya nodded thoughtfully. "And so, if you preemptively say on national television, in front of a million cameras, that you trust Rajat with all your heart, the media would be less likely to go after him. Is that it?"

"Partly. More importantly, if you do end up having to commission that pretty statue of my martyred self, Rajat would need to be reinstated as prime minister. And for that, he needs to be popular and trusted, and have a reasonably clean image, at the very least. He most certainly can't be suspected of being a murderer.

"Else, it'd create a power vacuum at the center; and the last thing this poor country needs is to end up with someone like Rinisa as PM. And of course, Maganti would like nothing better than to have a puppet ruler in Naijan." He turned to her with a self-satisfied grin. "Plus, it had the added benefit of making me look good, for magnanimously supporting my fallen adversary."

"Talking to you is disconcerting," she sighed, digging her phone out of her handbag. "I never know if I'm gonna get the altruistic visionary or the cutthroat opportunist. Or some bizarre combination of them both."