Chapter 27 · Untitled Chapter

The quiet that settled over the majlis in the wake of the notaries was thin and brittle, broken only by the low hum of the courtyard fountain beyond the arched glass. Ammi did not reach for the paper on the table. He stood rooted in place, his grip white around the silver handle of his cane, his chest rising and falling beneath his crisp white thobe.

Bandar did not shift his stance. He remained where he stood, unhurried, one hand resting lightly near the pocket of his thobe, his presence anchoring the cavernous room with an immovable, chilling gravity. He did not tell Ammi to leave; he merely waited, his dark eyes level and devoid of warmth.

Ammi stepped forward, the heavy silver tip of his cane striking the marble with a dull, hollow ring. From the inner pocket of his thobe, he drew a slender gold pen.

“Listen to me, Noura,” he said, his voice dropping into a harsh, strained murmur, mindful of Bandar’s eyes across the carpet. “Our name has endured decades without being dragged into the mouths of clerks and judges. The street is loud tonight, and every door in the district is watching this house.