Chapter 13

Manganic, the capital of Maralana, was both larger and more densely populated than Qayit. Getting from the airport to the hotel seemed to take a lifetime, though whether it was because of the distance or the traffic, Abhijat couldn't tell.

He had never thought he'd miss the congested, bumper-to-bumper traffic of Qayit. And yet, the cars here seemed almost ready to climb onto one another in their rush to get ahead.

Abhijat wasn't a fan of megacities, but he'd pick Qayit over Manganic in a heartbeat, and it wasn't just because it was the capital of his country.

The relief after they reached their hotel was short-lived. A small welcome party had been organized in honor of the visiting dignitaries in the banquet hall. Many of the important players in Maralanese politics were present, as were most top government officials and ministers. Only President Maganti was conspicuous by his absence.

Beautiful, carefully rendered replicas of famous Naijani artefacts featured prominently in the banquet hall. Fresh, fragrant flowers, arranged in the traditional styles of the five Naijani states adorned the walls. Somebody had put a lot of effort into wooing the Naijani delegates.

Fasih fluttered from group to group, making conversation, cracking jokes, taking the measure of everyone present, all while looking distracted and slightly dazzled by the grandeur of their surroundings.

Abhijat would've fallen for it, had he not had months of close proximity to study Fasih in all kinds of situations. Right now, Fasih looked relaxed and nonchalant, ambling aimlessly about, laughing and talking to everyone who approached him.

And yet, his eyes were keen and his smile a tad too bright, his expression far from the dazed and dreamy look he wore when truly at ease. He was prowling the perimeter, stalking potential prey, trying to pin down the easiest kill. Abhijat could feel it under his skin.

Out of the corner of his eye, Abhijat watched Dileep and Sinya Haval enter the banquet hall, followed by Rito. A few other senior scientists from Haval's team at the QRI had also arrived with them. His sister spotted him and broke away from the group, coming to stand beside Abhijat.

"Having fun?" she asked, bumping her shoulder against his.

"My dream vacation."

A tall, elegantly dressed woman in her fifties stepped through the massive doorway after the scientists. She was accompanied by a young woman who looked a lot like her, but couldn't have been older than twenty-five.

Outfitted in a long, bottle-green dress, her auburn hair swept up in a perfect chignon, she smiled and spoke pleasantly with all those around her. Abhijat couldn't help but notice, though, that from the moment she set foot over the threshold, her sharp eyes had been following Fasih around the hall.

Eventually, Fasih came forward, his hands outstretched, and the older woman moved in his direction to meet him halfway.

"Madam Ivanovna!" he said, embracing her warmly just a few steps away from where Abhijat stood near the back of the room with Rito.

"Jehan Fasih." Her baritone rang through the room as she returned the hug enthusiastically. "It's been a long time. You're still just as handsome as I remember."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Madam," he smiled, wrapping one hand around the younger woman, who kissed him affectionately on the cheek. "You don't look too shabby yourself."

He turned towards the Shians, one arm still wrapped around the younger woman, who wore an old-fashioned shrug over a simple silk dress. "Milli, meet Abhijat Shian, my head of security. And that's Rito, his sister, and a brilliant young academic."

Abhijat froze, and he could feel Rito go still beside him. The fact that this was against protocol didn't bother him as much as the fact that Fasih had singled out not only him, but also his sister, and brought them deliberately to the notice of some random foreigner for no apparent reason. And yet, he knew Fasih well enough to know that he did everything for a reason.

"And this, of course," Jehan continued, seemingly oblivious to the reactions of those around him. "Is Madam Ivanovna, and her daughter Ludmila Maganti."

"I prefer Milli," the girl said, smiling shyly at Rito, who extended her hand at once. As hands were shaken and greetings exchanged all around, something clicked inside Abhijat's brain.

Ludmila Maganti...daughter of Ivanovna Maganti, who happened to be President Maganti's step-mother and the leader of the Opposition, one of his greatest political opponents in Maralana.

It was rumored that Maganti had tried to have her – and his half-sister Ludmila – killed several times in the past, but to no avail. They always seemed to slip away from between his fingers.

And now, Fasih was chatting up Madam Ivanovna like they were long lost friends, unexpectedly reunited at a party. Like he'd had no idea she would be here. He wondered what Fasih's angle was, what he thought he could get out of the Maganti women. And why he thought involving him and Rito in his little game would be beneficial.

Abhijat turned to his sister, only to realize that Rito had already retreated into a corner with Milli, and they were now talking animatedly about something that Abhijat couldn't quite catch. He did, however, realize that they were talking rapidly in Birhani. Ludmilla spoke with a slight accent but kept up with the conversation easily enough. Rito's cheeks were flushed and she was smiling brightly from ear to ear.

Despite himself, Abhijat felt his lips twitch in a smile. It had been a long time since he'd seen Rito so free and unguarded, so unabashedly happy.

A slim, feminine hand pressed down on his shoulder. Abhijat stilled. He forced himself to breathe, and turned slowly around, only to see Rinisa smiling up at him from behind a half-empty champagne flute.

She wore a figure-hugging peach dress, and a plethora of complicated braids held her dark hair away from her face. A broad, silver choker around her throat was the only piece of jewelry on her person. "Have a drink with me," she said, turning slightly to look at the bar at the opposite end of the room. It wasn't so much a question as a command.

"I'm afraid I can't," he said easily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "As you can see, I'm on duty." He spared a glance at Fasih, who was still chatting with Madam Ivanovna a few feet away. "It wouldn't do to abandon my post."

Rinisa's smile widened, and she took a single step closer to Abhijat, so that they stood flush against one another. Abhijat stood his ground, refusing to take a step back. This seemed to amuse Rinisa even more, and she stood on tiptoes until her lips brushed his earlobe. "Have a drink with me. You wouldn't want to return to Qayit only to find your beloved parents have passed away in a tragic accident, would you now?"

***

Abhijat took a small sip from the glass the bartender had handed him seconds ago. He didn't even know what it was he was drinking, but it gave him an excuse to look away from Rinisa to try and get his thoughts under control. And for that, he was grateful.

The drink burned his throat on its way down, a temporary distraction from the thundering of his own heart. Rinisa couldn't be serious. She was just yanking his chain, testing how far she could go before he called her bluff. He knew all that, and yet...

On this, he couldn't afford to be wrong.

Sitting on the stool beside him, her feet dangling in the air, Rinisa reminded him uncannily of Fasih. And of the fact that they were both far more dangerous than they seemed to be.

"What do you want from me?" he ground out at last, after a few moments had passed in uncomfortable silence.

"A very small favor, actually," she said sweetly, taking a sip of her own reddish drink before setting it down on the counter. "I want you...need you...to ensure that Fasih doesn't show up to the New Year's gala the day after tomorrow."

Abhijat threw his head back and laughed. It sounded strained and bitter, even to his own ears. "Are you insane? Wait, don't answer that question." He shook his head. "I'll do no such thing. And you, Ms. Rayeek, should be careful with your words. Someone might even accuse you of treason, if you keep saying things like that."

Rinisa leaned sideways towards Abhijat, and the tips of her fingers lightly touched his knee under the counter. "I'm not the traitor here," she said softly. "And we both know it. I'm not the one who stole the premiership by destabilizing the central government based on manufactured accusations against the former PM."

Abhijat stiffened in his seat. Whether it was because of what Rinisa was saying or the way she was touching him, he couldn't tell. For some reason, he found both vaguely distasteful, although he knew she'd said nothing but the truth.

Her hand resting lightly on his thigh, Rinisa leaned further into his space. "Why're you so desperate to protect the man who ruined your family?" she whispered. "Destroyed your father's reputation, your sister's future...

"What could Jehan Fasih possibly have offered you that'd make his actions acceptable? Forgivable?" Her voice turned suggestive, almost sleazy. "Was it money? Or perhaps something more...personal in nature?"

Abhijat's blood boiled in his veins. She was goading him, trying to get a rise out of him. He knew that. And yet, that knowledge didn't change a single thing. "I'm not a sellout," he growled through gritted teeth. His fists clenched under the counter. If they hadn't been in public, he would've been sorely tempted to strangle her.

"And yet, you refuse to move against him." Her eyes remained fixed on the drink in her hand.

"Protecting the prime minister is my job description, Ms. Rayeek. It's my duty to make sure Fasih is safe. And I don't need to forgive him to do my job. I may not be a sellout, but I'm not a traitor either."

She arched a delicate eyebrow. "And you're willing to lose your family on the line of 'duty', I suppose?"

"Vague threats don't make for convincing arguments. And you're beginning to sound a bit like a broken record now."

Rinisa smiled coyly and removed her hand from Abhijat's thigh, placing her elbows on the counter and resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. "I don't know about you, but murdering the former deputy PM qualifies as something more than a 'vague threat' in my book."

"That's just speculation."

Rinisa chuckled primly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "Ah yes, speculation. Everything about him seems to be just that, no? Did he frame Prime Minister Shian?" She raised one shoulder in a half shrug. "Did he manipulate and then kill Badal? Who knows? Did he conspire with his old friend to put your sister behind bars? Surely not."

She paused, and Abhijat could feel her eyes on him, gauging him. "Did he collude with foreign powers to bribe Badal and win his support, only to have him killed once he had outlived his usefulness and become more trouble than his worth? Why, what a treasonous thought would that be! Surely not something patriots such as yourself should think about."

A chill ran down Abhijat's spine. He wanted to think she was lying, but she wasn't wrong. Fasih had framed his father and had tried to do the same to his sister for his own ends. He'd gained the premiership through deceit and subterfuge, not giving a damn about the collateral damage he caused. And Abhijat knew for a fact how manipulative Fasih could be when he wanted to be.

He didn't want to believe he'd been working for a murderer all these months; that Naijan was even now under the command of a cold-blooded killer. But that didn't mean what she was saying couldn't be true.

"The man they arrested for Badal's murder has retracted his statement," he said through gritted teeth, knowing full well how flimsy an excuse that was. He was clutching at straws, and Rinisa knew that as well as he did.

"And it never occurred to you that he might've been bribed? Blackmailed?"

The glass he'd been holding creaked ominously, and Abhijat set it down on the counter, lest it break in his grip. "Why'd he want to kill Badal now, after all this time? What would it achieve? Fasih already has everything he ever wanted."

"And hence, he has everything to lose. More so than he ever did before. So if Badal had suffered an attack of conscience, if he'd threatened to reveal everything to the media… There really was only one way out of that mess for Fasih.

"And now, he knows that if he's formally investigated for the murder, he'll have to step down. If that happens, there's a good chance that your father will be reinstated as prime minister.

"Jehan knows as well as we do, how popular Rajat Shian was during most of his term in office. And his popularity has only grown over the last few months, after the initial outcry over those ridiculous allegations died down. If he loses the premiership to your father now, Jehan knows he'll never win it back. And that is a chance he can't afford to take."

"You say that like there's something he can do about it. If the investigation turns up any evidence of his guilt–"

"The investigation?" she laughed. "Who cares about the investigation? It wouldn't go that far if Fasih has anything to say about it."

Abhijat frowned. "Meaning?"

"The New Year's party, of course. Think about it. An international gala event, covered by all the major media outlets and news agencies around the world. The place is going to be chock full of cameras. No better alibi in the world."

"An alibi for what?"

She tipped her head back and drained her glass. "If there happened to be an...unfortunate accident at the Shian household back in Qayit, when people around the world could see live footage of Jehan Fasih discharging his prime ministerly duties in Maralana," she shrugged. "Well, who could blame him? There's no way he could be held responsible for the accident. He wasn't even in the country."

Abhijat flinched. His hands were shaking, and his mouth had gone dry. God, this wouldn't do. With a tremendous effort of will, he forced his body back under control. "Without proof, these are just baseless allegations. Some might even call it slander."

She smiled and leaned forward in her seat. "Tell me Abhijat, what do you know about Fasih's mother?"

"Just that she left Naijan when he was a kid. I don't see how that's–"

She flicked open her handbag and withdrew a file. "Natalya Fasih, née Tarasov, has been living in her family home in the suburbs of Manganic for the past decade and a half. She never officially divorced Fasih senior. She's lived a pretty quiet life, on the whole, never drawing much attention to herself.

"Until, less than a year ago, she purchased a bungalow in one of the fanciest neighborhoods in this city. That, and a couple of high-end cars. Strange, because officially, her only source of income is the meager retirement fund her late husband had set up for her. She'd inherited some property from her own parents, but all of that taken together wouldn't have paid for even one of her two new cars."

She handed him the file. "These are some recent transactions made through Mrs. Fasih's personal bank account. Over the last six months alone, she has received no less than three huge payouts from the Central Bank of Maralana."

"What for?" Abhijat asked, flipping through the file with a frown. He was no expert, but the documents looked legitimate enough. He wondered how Rinisa had managed to get her hands on them.

"Your guess is as good as mine. The most remarkable thing she's ever done in her life was winning a beauty pageant more than thirty years ago. No reason why the Maralanese government should be paying her so handsomely for it now."

"I understand what you're getting at." He closed the file and placed his palm over it. "But even if everything you've just said is true, these transactions could easily have happened without Jehan's knowledge."

Rinisa laughed. "Do you really believe that? What do you think they were paying her for? Being an exemplary citizen? The only thing Maganti can hope to get out of her is access to her son. And he wouldn't pay her that kind of money for anything less."

"I thought she and her son were estranged."

"For over a decade, your father also thought Jehan was his trusted friend."

His grimace produced a smile from Rinisa. She reached forward and covered his hand with her own smaller one. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. All I'm saying is that Fasih is an experienced player of this game.

"For the last ten years and more, he'd been projecting an image of himself that was good enough to fool some of the smartest people in the central government. What he did, it came as a shock to everyone who knew him, and most of those who didn't. Those people weren't amateurs, they weren't stupid. And yet, none of them had ever viewed him as a potential threat. It wasn't just your father who underestimated him.

"If he could fake a personality for over a decade, fake attachments and allegiances he never gave a damn about, well, what other parts of his life might've been a lie?"

Abhijat grunted noncommittally and looked away, draining his own drink for a moment's reprieve. It wasn't so much that he thought what she was saying was improbable. He hadn't been lying when he told Rito that he didn't trust Fasih. The thing was, though, he trusted Rinisa even less. Even if she was telling nothing but the truth, she had an agenda for telling it. And he needed to know what that was.

"Even if I were to agree with everything you've said so far, Ms. Rayeek, that's hardly conclusive proof of anything."

"No, I suppose it isn't. You know what would be, though?" She turned to look him straight in the eyes. "If you were to call your mother right now and ask her whether or not some young people claiming to be students of Qayit University have been visiting your home for some survey or the other, since you and your sister left for Manganic."

Abhijat's fists clenched in horror, his blood running cold. "No. That's not–"

"How long has Jehan been associated with the QRI, now?" she asked, cutting him off. "How many years has he spent on that campus? And then there's Sinya Haval, his childhood friend, now the accomplished head of the Comp. Lit. Department.

"Fasih can be charming when he wants to be. Is it so unbelievable that he might've made friends at the university? That over the years he might've gathered followers who'd be willing to do anything to support him?

"There are plenty of radical student organizations in Qayit University. Any one of them could've been manipulated or bribed into staking out the Shian house. After all, Rajat Shian's address is a matter of public record.

"And maybe Fasih only wanted eyes on your father. But maybe he wants something more. Perhaps those students aren't there to be mere spectators after all. Tell me, Abhijat, after what happened to Badal, are you willing to risk your parents' lives on the assumption of Jehan Fasih's innate goodness?"

With shaking hands, Abhijat withdrew his phone from his pocket and dialed his mother. The conversation was brief, tense, and made his throat clench with fear. Students from the university had visited the house, apparently for some survey they were doing for a political science project. They had just left half an hour ago.

"Do not let any strangers into the house until I get back, alright?" he all but snarled at her. Then, more gently, he whispered into the phone. "Promise me, okay? Promise me you'll be safe."

By the time he disconnected the call, Rinisa was gazing at him curiously. He wished he could tell his father what was going on. But he didn't have any proof beyond Rinisa's allegations and insinuations.

As likely as not, Rajat would refuse to believe him altogether. And even if he didn't, he might do something that'd alert Jehan's spies that something was wrong. It might spook them, make them do something rash or dangerous.

He couldn't take the chance.

"Fine," he breathed, turning to face Rinisa at last. "Fine, let's say I believe you. But tell me, why the hell are you so desperate to help me? Am I supposed to act on the assumption of your innate goodness, instead of Fasih's? 'Cause I gotta tell you, Ms. Rayeek, those are some damn shitty options."

She smirked, shook her head, and motioned to the bartender for another drink. "Far be it from me to suggest that I'm a good person, my friend." She balanced the cocktail glass between her fingers, planted her elbow on the counter, and leveled an amused gaze at Abhijat. "I'm a bitch with an agenda, as you may or may not have realized. And therein lies the difference between me and Fasih.

"We're cut from the same cloth, he and I. I'm just more comfortable embracing my flaws, such as they are. He wants you to think he's a good person, maybe he wants to believe that himself." She rolled her eyes. "Me, I have no such delusions. I'm not interested in goodness. All I want is revenge."

"Revenge for what?"

"For what he did to my family," she hissed. "From the moment he got the premiership, he came after me and my family. I didn't move against him, not initially. I was on his side; I wanted to be his ally, to work together towards a common goal.

"But he just had to interfere with things that didn't concern him. He systematically dismantled our businesses, impeded our operations, in Qayit and in the states. And I was okay with that," she laughed. "Hey, it's business. Somebody wins, somebody loses. That's the game. But then he killed Badal–"

"My heart is breaking for your loss," Abhijat intoned.

"He was family!" she whirled in her seat. "You of all people should understand that. He was my brother's father-in-law, and a close friend of mine. And now he's gone, he's dead, because Fasih is playing a game he can no longer control.

"And if he's allowed to continue, what's to say that my brother won't be next in the line of fire?" Her voice dropped an octave. "Or your sister, for that matter."

Abhijat's face must have shown some fraction of his emotions, because she smiled slightly and looked away. "I'm not an angel, Abhijat. But at least I'm the devil you know. I've nothing to gain by harming you or your family; I need your help to protect mine.

"Fasih, on the other hand…right now, your father is perhaps the biggest thorn in his side. If he can remove Rajat Shian from the picture, he has the world to gain by it. And everything to lose if he doesn't.

"And he'll have the perfect chance to do just that during the New Year's gala the day after tomorrow; create the perfect alibi for the perfect crime. He'll kill your father, Abhijat. Just like he killed Badal. And he won't give a damn who gets caught in the crossfire.

"You're the only one who can help me stop it. Stop him. And if you don't, we'll both lose everything we have." She raised her glass. "Think about that."

For a minute, Abhijat said nothing. His heart thundered against his ribcage, his mind in a whirl. He felt like a cornered animal, desperate, afraid, and ferocious. Ready to kill or be killed. And really, what other choice was he left with? He hadn't noticed the trap closing in around him until it was too late. And now, there was only one way out.

Stop Fasih, or die trying.

His throat scraped raw, the bitter aftertaste of betrayal on his tongue, he made himself ask, "What do you need me to do?"

***

"Where're we going?" Rito asked, jogging slightly to keep up with her companion.

"You'll see," Milli murmured, glancing back at her with a soft smile. Her fingers encircled Rito's wrist, her thumb rubbing lightly at her pulse point. Rito barely suppressed a shudder.

Finally, they reached the end of the corridor and she turned the knob of a large, ornate door. It swung open to reveal what looked like a smaller, cozier version of the banquet hall they'd just left.

The room was exquisitely decorated, but it couldn't have accommodated more than a dozen people at a time. The furniture was tasteful, and probably antique. Bright, charming watercolors adorned the walls, between magnificent, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the starlit city-scape, offering a mesmerizing view of Manganic.

"This is beautiful," Rito breathed, her feet moving towards the windows of their own accord. "I'd no idea Manganic was so…"

"Breathtaking?" Milli smiled. "Yeah, there's more to this city than meets the eye."

Rito turned to look at her. Milli's cheeks were flushed, her shoulder-length auburn hair tousled and slightly windblown.

Her eyes traveled downwards, and she giggled, getting a proper look at her companion's outfit for the first time.

"Cute shrug," she smirked, stepping forward and burying her fingers into the soft, velvety lapels of the garment. It was a long, flowy thing with embroidered seams that probably went out of fashion half a century ago. Yet, it was oddly appealing, making Milli look more like some character out of a fairy tale than a real person.

Milli colored prettily, looking away. "It's my mother's," she said quietly, then smiled at Rito, a little self-conscious. "I spilled tequila on mine, on the way over."

Rito raised an eyebrow, then burst out laughing, her hands still clutching Milli's lapels. After a moment, breathless giggles spilled out of Milli's lips, and suddenly they were both laughing helplessly, holding each other upright, their foreheads brushing.

Music floated in from the banquet hall at the other end of the corridor, and before she knew what she was doing, Rito found herself moving in sync with the muted melody, her arms around Milli's waist, while the latter had her palms pressed lightly against her shoulders.

"I could get used to diplomatic functions, if they're all this much fun," Rito whispered into Milli's ear, leaning in rather unsubtly to deliver the message.

"Only the ones with spare rooms," Milli said, turning her head slightly so her face was buried in the crook of Rito's neck.

"Mmm, I'll keep that in mind."

A sharp crack, a swift breeze, and Rito threw herself over Milli and pushed her back against the wall, just as a bullet struck one of the watercolors on the wall behind them, shattering its glass frame.

"Fuck," she said, breathing hard, her heart thundering against her ribcage. She realized, belatedly, that she'd pinned Milli against the wall, her hands braced on either side of the shorter woman's head.

"Oh-oh my God," Milli stammered, wide-eyed, her shoulders trembling slightly. Then, abruptly, she laughed, a tinge of hysteria in her voice. "My God, you saved me."

Another crack, and a bullet whizzed past inches from the back of Rito's head, shattering a vase that had stood near the door.

Rito cursed, then placed her hands on Milli's shoulders, steadying her. "We have to leave, now." She swung Milli around, making sure to keep her own body between Milli and the windows. She pressed forward, keeping close to the wall and inching them both towards the door. "Just keep moving. I'll get you out of here, I promise. But you can't panic, okay? Not now."

Milli nodded, her hair brushing the underside of Rito's chin. "I-I can do that." Then, with a rueful little laugh, she murmured, "After all, I've had practice."

Rito frowned, but this wasn't the time for second thoughts. She reached around Milli's waist and grabbed the door knob. Another shot rang out, followed by the sound of glass shattering. She heaved the door open with a wince.

Pushing Milli over the threshold, she followed her out of the room.

Rito squinted. The lights in the corridor had gone out, and she could barely make out the two shadowy figures rounding the corner near the banquet hall.

"Mamma," Milli choked, and rushed forward to wrap her arms around the woman who was now close enough for Rito to make out her features. Madam Ivanovna looked moments away from blind panic, her eyes wide and hair in disarray. She wrapped her daughter in a steely embrace and held on.

Behind her, Jehan surveyed the corridor, running his fingers lightly over the walls, his eyes narrowed and mouth pinched into a grimace.

"What happened?" he said at last, after Madam Ivanovna had finally let go of her daughter, though her fingers still remained tangled in Milli's hair. "I thought I heard..."

"Gunshots," Rito supplied, glancing warily back at the room they'd just vacated. "We were being shot at. Or at least, Milli was. I think I was just collateral damage."

"You saved my life," Milli murmured, gazing at Rito with awestruck eyes.

Rito could feel herself flush, and looked quickly away. Pushing Milli into the wall had been pure reflex, more instinct than strategy. And the bullet might've missed her anyway, even if Rito had done nothing but stand there as gunshots rang in her ears.

But the soft gratitude in Milli's voice made something in her chest clench painfully, and Rito bit back a groan. This was the worst possible time to develop a crush...on the daughter of a foreign politician she'd met less than an hour ago, at that.

So of course, now was the moment she had to go and do it, with Jehan Fasih smiling creepily at her from behind the Maganti women. As if her life needed to get more complicated than it already was.

She glanced down to see Madam Ivanovna take her hand into both of her own, her eyes glistening in the half-light of the corridor. "Thank you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, my dear. I can't..." she trailed off, and raised Rito's hand to her lips.

Rito stilled, sympathy warring with awkwardness in her gut. What was the appropriate response to having your hand kissed by the parent of your crush? Someone needed to write an instruction manual.

She looked helplessly over at Jehan, but he just shrugged and grinned back at her innocently, useless as a sack of potatoes.

Rito cleared her throat. "So how did you hear the gunshots anyway? If it was audible inside the banquet hall, I'm guessing we'd be dealing with a much larger crowd here than we are."

"Madam Ivanovna and I had just stepped out for some fresh air," Jehan said, stepping forward just as Ivanovna let go of Rito's hand, still smiling warmly at her. "I'm sure we wouldn't have heard anything if we were still inside.

"That said, I don't think we should be hanging around in the corridor by ourselves. There're no windows here, and it's unlikely that the gunmen would try to enter the hotel." He looked around searchingly. "Still, we can't be sure there aren't any assailants hiding in here already."

Rito frowned. None of this made any sense. "But who were those people?" she snapped, glaring at Jehan. She could tell he knew more than he was letting on, as always. "And why're they trying to kill Milli?"

"They were not." Madam Ivanovna sighed, settling a gentle hand on Rito's shoulder. "They were trying to kill me."

"What?" And then, Milli's rueful words floated back into her mind, as if from a faraway place–

"It's my mother's. I spilled tequila on mine, on the way over."

She turned her wide-eyed gaze first on Milli, then on her mother. "She was wearing your shrug," she whispered, a horrified comprehension dawning in her mind. "The gunmen...they thought they were shooting at you."

"They did," Jehan agreed, his tone as matter-of-fact as if they'd been talking about the weather. Rito tamped down on the urge to strangle him.

Jehan ignored her obvious irritation with a single arched eyebrow and continued, "Which is why you should take my car and get out of here. Madam Ivanovna, I'll have your car sent back later tonight, but it isn't safe for you to go back in it right now. The gunmen might have it marked. They might attack you again or follow you home."

Ivanovna shook her head. "I need to go to the office, check on some things. This is–" her eyes settled on her daughter, brimming with anxiety. "But Milli...I can't send her back alone."

"I'll drive her home," Rito volunteered, looking from Milli to her mother. "I mean, if we're in Jehan's car and she's ditched the shrug, it shouldn't be a problem. The assassins probably wouldn't even recognize us. I'm pretty sure they didn't see our faces. My back was turned to the windows, and Milli was in front of me almost the entire time."

"Yeah. Yeah, that should work," Milli nodded after a beat, taking a hesitant step towards Rito. "I'm sure you're right."

Madam Ivanovna looked between the two of them, then nodded, a tiny smile lifting the corners of her lips. "Thank you," she said again, before taking a step back and typing something into her phone.

Jehan took another step forward, reached behind his back, and casually retrieved what Rito realized belatedly was a small revolver. He held it out for her to take. "Just in case," he murmured. "I'll send some of my bodyguards with you, of course. But I'd feel better knowing you weren't completely unarmed, considering..."

Rito looked at him incredulously. "You-you've been carrying a gun around with you all this time? How did you even manage to get it in without being detected?"

He smirked. "I didn't spend my life in a laboratory to be thwarted by a couple of standard-issue metal detectors. Now go."

Rito gulped, then nodded, taking the gun and slipping it gingerly into her pocket. She wasn't a particularly good shot, but he was right. The weight of the gun on her person did make her feel safer, ever so slightly more confident.

Milli slipped her hand into hers, and Rito held on for dear life.

"Don't tell my brother about...about the bullets," she said, turning to Jehan.

He tilted his head to one side, his gaze curious. She looked away. "Please," she made herself say, almost choking on the word as it left her mouth. "Just tell him...tell him I left with Milli; that I'll see him tomorrow morning when I get back to the hotel. I..." she sighed, then sucked in a breath and tried again. "He'll be worried, if he knew."

A moment passed in silence, during which Rito held her breath, unable to look Jehan in the eyes.

He knew what she was thinking. That Abhijat would blame him for the attack, if he knew of it; would inevitably think that Jehan was responsible for it, somehow. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to say any of that out loud. Whether it was for Jehan's sake or her brother's, she didn't know.

He turned on his heel. "Okay. Sure thing," he said easily. Then, hands in his pockets, he headed back down the corridor towards the banquet hall.

***

The mattress dipped, and Rito turned to see Milli pushing herself off the bed.

"Where d'you think you're going?" she reached out to tug at Milli's wrist. "It's not polite to leave your guests alone, didn't you know that?"

Eri rubbed her head against Rito's thigh and meowed in agreement. "See? Your cat agrees with me." Rito pushed herself up on an elbow and gathered Eri up in one arm, holding her close. "You should listen to cats. They're smart."

"Not this one. She almost drowned in her own milk bowl just last week," Milli chuckled, buttoning her nightshirt. "And anyway, I was just going to get you the coffee I promised when I invited you inside. Wouldn't want you to feel cheated, after all."

"I think we can both agree I got more than I'd bargained for on this deal," Rito smiled, without letting go of Milli's hand. "Come back here. The coffee can wait. Eri thinks coffee is for losers, anyway." She tapped the cat on the nose and giggled as it let out a startled squawk.

"Fine. I'll serve you cat food for breakfast." Milli rolled her eyes. "Be careful with her hind legs. She broke them as a kitten. They never quite healed right."

"Both her legs?" Rito's eyes widened as she put Eri gently down on the bed. "How?"

Milli shrugged, looking away. "Some people threw stones at her, when she was a kitten. They thought she was bad luck. 'Cause she's, you know, a black cat. By the time we found Eri, they'd already killed her mother. And she was horribly wounded; so weak the vet was sure she wouldn't survive."

After a beat, she tipped her head back and grinned. "But what do you know? Eri's a fighter." She leaned forward and rubbed the cat's ears affectionately. "No stupid, superstitious assholes were gonna keep her down."

"But who'd attack a kitten?" Rito frowned. "What could she possibly have done to anyone?"

Milli shrugged. "They say if you see a black cat, death is close by. It's stupid. But then, people are stupid." She smiled. "And cruel and murderous. What can you do?"

Rito said nothing for a moment. Then, she pulled Milli forward and looked her steadily in the eyes. "Why did those people attack you at the hotel? Or I guess they wanted to attack your mother." She shook her head. "But why?"

Milli sighed, then looked away from Rito, staring fixedly at the far wall. "Grigori. Uh, I mean, President Maganti. He's my half-brother, you know?"

Rito nodded, idly massaging the back of Milli's hand with her thumb. "Is he..."

"This isn't the first time he's tried something like this. Ever since our father died..." she bit her lip, then rolled over on the bed to lie face to face with Rito. "He had me kidnapped, back when I was in school, to blackmail my mother."

"What?" Rito could feel the blood draining from her face. She clutched at Milli's hand. What kind of a brother would do something like that?

Milli nodded. "Fucked up, I know. After our father died, he wanted total control of the party. My mother refused to give him that, and eventually there was a split. One faction broke away, formed a new alliance with my mother at the helm, including some of the older and more influential party members.

"Grigori didn't like that. Ever since he was elected president, he's been doing everything in his power to undermine all opposition. To position himself as–"

"A dictator," Rito finished. "That's what he wants, right? To turn Maralana into a dictatorship."

"He does. And if not for Mamma and her party, he would've managed it too. Right now, she's the biggest political opponent he has in this country. And this isn't the first time he's tried to have her killed.

"And it's not just her, either. Journalists, judges, activists, bureaucrats...people who oppose him have a tendency to end up dead. Or at least they did, until he got wind of Amven. Once he gets a hold of that, he can wreak havoc without getting any blood on his hands. Might even be an improvement, depending on how you look at it."

"Wait, what?" Rito pushed herself into a sitting position, causing a startled Eri to dive under the quilt, meowing plaintively. "Amven as in...the Amven drug? The one Jehan made?"

Milli frowned. "Is there another one? I wouldn't know. I only know what Mamma tells me. And she doesn't always tell me everything–"

"No," Rito cut her off. "No, that's not what I meant. But why does President Maganti want the Amven drug?"

"Because it's the easiest way to bring the Opposition to heel, without setting off any international alarm bells." She shrugged. "Murders are messy. And he doesn't want to make any more enemies internationally than he must.

"When domestic terrorists attacked those metro stations in Qayit, Grigori had hoped Naijan would use Amven on the arrested suspects. If that went well – and he'd have made sure it did – there'd be a precedent for using the drug on criminals, or for national security."

Rito nodded with dawning comprehension. "Then, it would just be a matter of normalizing the use of the drug on criminals. Once that was widely accepted, all he'd have to do is to have his opponents arrested on false charges and inject them with Amven until they agreed with everything he said. You don't need to kill your enemies if you can just enslave them."

"All for the sake of national security, of course," Milli smiled. "Corpses aren't nearly as useful as an army of obedient yes-men."

"And what? The people of Naijan were supposed to be the guinea pigs for his twisted little schemes?" The thought of it made her skin crawl. She could feel a nascent fury building in her gut. "That's why he paid off half the old Cabinet, isn't it?"

"Oh, he did more than that," Milli chuckled, shaking her head. "You don't know dear Grigori well enough if you think he'd be satisfied with such indirect meddling as that, and for something this crucial too. Still, Prime Minister Fasih's intervention sure as hell threw a spanner in his works, at least for a while."

Rito frowned, lying back down with a groan. "You think he knew about all this when he did it? You think that's why Jehan forced Papa to resign?"

"I've no idea. But whatever his reasons, it worked. Naijan didn't use Amven on those terrorists. And here I am, talking to you, perfectly lucid and not yet drugged into singing Grigori's praises." She shrugged. "Mamma says she likes him...Jehan, I mean. And quite frankly, I can see why."

"He can be charming when he wants to be. I don't hate him myself, or at least not as much as I thought I would." Rito smirked. "I have to say, though, that might change very quickly if I find out he's out to steal my girl."

Milli scuttled closer until her forehead was inches from Rito's. "Oh, he isn't quite cute enough for that."

Laughing, Rito wrapped an arm around Milli, even as she reached under her pillow to retrieve her phone with the other hand. The device pinged, and Rinisa's number flashed on the screen.

Rito's heart leapt to her throat.

She'd forgotten all about the drug samples she was supposed to have stolen from Jehan, which Rinisa expected to get back from her before the New Year's gala.

God, she was as good as dead.

Eri meowed from somewhere under the covers, as if in agreement.