“Greetings, Nur Jahan,” Jahanara returned, crossing the carpets to meet her kinswoman among the pillows set out for them to sit upon.
“You are as lovely as ever, Begum Sahib,” Nur said, inviting Jahanara to sit with one hennaed hand. The scent of roses, delicate and ephemeral, trailed Nur’s gesture.
“And your beauty is ceaseless,” Jahanara lied, accepting the seat. In truth, Nur appeared tired, drawn. Her eyes remained bright, however, and Jahanara would not put it past Nur to pretend exhaustion in order to cause an opponent to underestimate her. Certainly the smooth grace Nur exhibited as she took her seat argued against severe fatigue.
Nur offered refreshment, which Jahanara politely refused. There followed a rapid exchange of news regarding the health of the royal family. Jahanara could not discern any interest in news of Roshanara beyond that expressed for Murad or Gauharara. News that Aurangzeb was healthy, in good spirits, and recently married was neither surprising nor pleasing.
The preliminaries concluded, Jahanara decided to come directly to the point: “I am here and ready to represent Dara in these talks, though it was not made clear to us what Aurangzeb hopes to accomplish with them.”
Nur smiled. “Good. God willing, we shall show these men a path to peace.”
Jahanara returned her own smile, though she put a blade in it. “That path finds an easy end. Aurangzeb need only relinquish his claim to the Peacock Throne.”
Nur cocked her head, seemingly unfazed by either Jahanara’s hard-edged smile or blunt words.
Silence descended. Jahanara refused to break it. She had learned that much.
“You know he cannot do that. He—”
“Do I?” Jahanara interrupted, deciding it was time to show some of the anger seething in her heart. “Do I know he cannot turn from this course of insurrection, betrayal, and blood that he has chosen?”
Nur did not so much as blink as Jahanara flung words at her. “I am not here to discuss the choices already made by those we have agreed to represent, but to reach agreement regarding the future for you and the rest of the siblings not directly involved in this conflict.”
“And we are to trust you, and him?”
Nur’s eyes narrowed. “You question whether I will bargain in good faith on behalf of Aurangzeb?”
Carefully directing and controlling her anger, Jahanara said, “No. While I have many questions I would ask of you, that is not one. I know you will represent Aurangzeb to the best of your considerable ability. At least until he does something you do not approve of.”
Nur’s smile lit the gray afternoon. “What would you ask, then?”
“Why did you goad Mullah Mohan into killing Father?” Jahanara asked, hoping to wipe the smile from the older woman’s face.
It worked: Nur’s mask, usually so perfectly controlled in every detail, slipped. “I did no such thing. That creature had his own hates, and acted on them independent of all reason, let alone any influence from me.”
“Yet you admit to knowing him well enough to be intimate with his state of mind? Interesting,” Jahanara said, hoping to capitalize on her apparent advantage.
“He supported Aurangzeb.” Jahanara watched as Nur reasserted her habitual control of her expression, though she noted the older woman’s eyes glittered fiercely. “I supported Aurangzeb, as I supported all my brother’s grandchildren. It was Aurangzeb who brought us together in order to coordinate the recruitment of his forces for Shah Jahan’s invasion of the Deccan. I could not deny a request from such a one.”
“I see. I do not recall the court being made aware that you had decided upon a career as a recruiter of sowar.”
Nur smiled again. “I have ever sought to serve the crown.”
“Ever? Really? I do believe my brothers can do without service such as you rendered the crown whilst you attempted to place Shariyar ahead of Father on the throne.”
Nur’s smile remained in place as she spread her hands. “You do not spend much time looking in the mirror, do you?”
“I reflect upon my actions always, Nur.”
“And the difference between what you do and I have done is?” Nur asked, cocking her head a little.
Jahanara could have slapped her. “I am helping him to fill the role Father envisioned for him from the moment Dara first drew breath to Father’s last.”
“And Shariyar was not chosen by my husband before his unfortunate death? I was there, child.”
“I am no child.”
A twitch of silk-covered shoulders. “Perhaps not, but then, I have found that only children feel the need to declare that they are not children.”
Jahanara marveled at Nur’s skill even as she reveled in letting her righteous anger show. “Yes, and Father let you back into public life, and the way you chose to repay him was to allow his murder.”
“Allow?” Nur asked, reproachfully. “You give me too much credit. I had no control over the actions of either Mullah Mohan or your father. How, then, should I be named responsible for the fate of either, child?”
“Save your condescension for one who must suffer it. I am Begum Sahib, Jahanara Begum, Shehzadi and first born of Shah Jahan and Mumtaz Mahal. I am your equal in every way that matters.”
“Are you? Better that Nadira had been given the task of treating with me. She, at least, is a mother. She, at least, would know the stakes for which we contend and not blithely assume the false superiority you cling to.”
Jahanara laughed. “Nadira, more wise than either of us, said you would attack me not only on that front, but using those exact words. I will be sure to let her know exactly how prophetic her predictions of your behavior proved.”
“These attacks resolve nothing,” Nur snapped.
Suspicious of a trap, Jahanara did not immediately capitalize on her opponent’s loss of control.
Nur took a steadying breath but Jahanara found her tongue before she could reply: “But they’re providing such sport, Nur. It is a rare treat, this exchange of words with the woman all the world knows
