Chapter 29 · Chapter 29

The silence in the majlis was heavy, scented with the drifting smoke of Taif rose and seasoned agarwood from the silver mabkhara near the threshold. None of the men seated along the low perimeter cushions dared to raise their eyes, each lingering behind the polite boundary of his cooled finjan.

Saad remained standing near the arched entry, his immaculate white thobe crisp against the warm limestone, his posture unreadable, his heba commanding the room without a single raised word.

I gathered the edge of my black silk abaya with my right hand, ensuring the dark drape of my tarha remained pinned in unyielding folds, revealing nothing beyond the clear measure of my gaze. Stepping away from the carved wooden screen of the entryway, I walked into the open expanse of the hall until I reached the center of the wool carpet.

Every pair of eyes shifted toward me, yet none held mine.