Chapter 33 · Untitled Chapter

Abu Tariq paused at the threshold, his heavy bisht brushing the mahogany frame. The faint scent of aged dehn al-oud drifted in his wake, lingering over the low murmur of the majlis beyond.

I did not wait for him to step into the corridor. I took one steady step forward, my hands folded beneath the fall of my dark abaya, my voice level and clear enough to carry past the doorway.

"Abu Tariq," I said.

He stopped, turning his head just enough for his profile to catch the pale chandelier light. In the hall, two younger men of his household straightened, their gazes dropping in immediate deference to the room, though their ears remained strained toward us.

"You speak of the gate as though its bolts measure my obedience," I said, meeting his lined, shadowed eyes without blinking. "And you brought that paper assuming that the Al-Tamimi seal, stamped beside another house’s crest, has the authority to buy a woman’s silence to keep peace in your councils."

A heavy stillness settled over the threshold.