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celebrants.
    She stopped cold when she saw Laleh in the pavilion, waiting for her groom. Beside Laleh was Tahmineh, her forehead smooth now, her gaze fond.
    Soraya ducked behind a flowering almond tree near the pavilion and watched Sorush join his bride and his mother. Together, the three of them were unmistakably a family. Laleh wore a brilliant smile, her eyes sparkling. Someone like Laleh doesn’t belong hidden away , Soraya remembered as she watched Sorush take Laleh’s hands, his thumbs softly stroking her knuckles. And Tahmineh beamed over them both, a son and a new daughter she could take pride in. Soraya had never seen her look so untroubled.
    Soraya’s gloved hands clutched at the bark of the tree. In the space around her mother, her brother, and the only friend she had ever had, she saw her own absence. In their glowing smiles, she saw the truth: that she always would have lost them, because they were meant to know joy. And no matter how much she wanted to deny it, Soraya knew that a part of her would always resent them for that joy, for having even the possibility of it.
    Soraya slunk away, like a shadow disappearing when the sun was at its highest. But the crowd had thickened behind her, creating what seemed to her like an impenetrable wall of people. She tried to breathe and slow her quickening heartbeat as she sought a path through the crowd. But after only a few steps, something collided with her legs, and she jerked away in response, looking down at a little girl who had crossed her path. With visions of butterflies fluttering behind her eyelids, Soraya went cold with fear, almost waiting to see the girl fall dead on the spot. But the girl had only touched the fabric of Soraya’s dress, and she skipped away without even paying Soraya notice.
    Still, Soraya couldn’t slow her pulse, and as she tried to keep making her way through the crowd, she was light-headed from the mixture of panic and relief. She kept her head down, knowing from the familiar heat in her cheeks that her veins were visible on her face, but as a result, she kept accidentally brushing against more people. Each time it happened, her heart would give another involuntary lurch, until her body felt exhausted and overwhelmed from the constant bursts of fear.
    She was curling in on herself now, her shoulders hunching protectively, her head hanging forward, her arms going around her waist. She didn’t even think she was moving anymore, but it washard to tell when she was so disoriented. Her veins felt like they were straining against her skin. Don’t faint, she told her swimming head, her pounding heart. If she fainted, then someone might touch her face or remove her gloves to find her pulse. Don’t faint, don’t faint.
    A firm arm came around her shoulders. A hand clamped around her upper arm. Someone was trying to help her. “No,” Soraya said weakly. “No, don’t—” She lifted her head enough to see who had innocently come to her rescue without knowing that she was more dangerous than in danger. And through the curtain of hair spilling over her face, she saw a familiar young man dressed in red.
    â€œAzad,” she breathed.
    He blinked at her. “You know me,” he said, a note of surprised pleasure in his voice.
    â€œYou shouldn’t come near me.” She tried to draw away from him. “You don’t understand—”
    But Azad didn’t let go. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I know you, too, shahzadeh banu.”
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    Soraya froze under the weight of the young man’s arm, repeating his words to herself. He knew her, he said. But what did he know? He had addressed her by her title, and so he clearly knew she was the princess. But did he know why she was wearing gloves on this warm spring day? Did he know why she was trying to hide her face? Did he know that only a layer of fabric separated him from death?
    â€œYou don’t look