A few seconds passed, and Fasih raised a questioning brow. Abhijat was being mocked.

“No, thanks,” he said, his tone a little brusquer than he’d intended.

The Prime Minister’s lilac sweater – two sizes too big at the very least – was complemented by a multicolored scarf that was looped carelessly around his neck. Overgrown dark hair fell into his eyes, making him look more like an unkempt puppy than the savvy schemer Abhijat had come to expect. He wondered if the man was stoned.

He’d been thrown completely off his game. And he still couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was amiss. His hands itched for the comforting weight of a weapon.

Fasih shrugged, and floated off to one corner of the room that had an electric kettle and some jars.

Abhijat frowned. They hadn’t been there the last time he’d visited. He didn’t know why that bothered him so much.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Setting the water to heat, Fasih leaned against the veneered wall and stared straight at Abhijat. In that moment, he looked more lucid than he had since Abhijat first laid eyes on him.

“So, what made you decide to quit the military and return to the capital? Not that I’m not delighted you did, because I am.” He punctuated the words with another one of his earnest smiles. “But I was under the impression that you didn’t much like Qayit.”

Abhijat stiffened, his skin prickling with unease. The only person who could have told Fasih about his thoughts on the capital was his father. He couldn’t believe the man was casually discussing their family gossip after everything that had happened. Everything he had done. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said curtly.

Fasih nodded as if that made perfect sense. “And do you like your new job?”

“I’m hoping I will. Do you?”

The younger man’s eyes widened imperceptibly, then he grinned. “I have a feeling I’m going to, now that you’re here. I’ve heard a lot about you, you know. Always wanted to meet you.”

“The feeling is mutual, I’m sure. I’ve heard quite a bit about you as well.”

Fasih poured his tea, his back turned to Abhijat. “Good things, I hope?”

“Nothing but.” And less than a month ago, that would have been an honest answer.