[Love that crossed power and empires] "Is there any problem, begum?" I asked, placing the book aside, my voice neutral but alert. She swallowed. "I have given my consent," she said, so softly it barely carried, "You should get married to Inaayat Amira." For a moment, I thought I had misheard. My head snapped up. My ears sharpened, every muscle in my body going rigid. "Perdon me?" I said, rising to my feet. "Repeat that." I took a step toward her. Then another. She said nothing. Her gaze dropped to the floor, lashes trembling, as if words had suddenly betrayed her. A dry, humorless smile curved my lips. "Itni samajdar ho gayi," I said quietly, stopping in front of her, "ki apne sohar ke liye faisle karne lagi?" I lifted her chin between my index and middle finger. Her skin was warm. Too warm. She flinched at the contact. "Itni samajdar," I continued, my voice lowering, sharper now, "ki mujhe baantne ke liye bhi taiyaar ho gayi aap?" I forced her to look at me.