Chapter 21 · Untitled Chapter

Beyond the carved door, the sound of raised murmurs carried faintly through the masonry of the corridor. The private wing remained motionless, held in the dry, resinous warmth of the burner where the last trace of the permit had dissolved into gray flake, but in the vestibule before the majlis, my uncle had already gathered those whose names were signed to the estate’s outer gates.

Bandar did not move toward the lock. He stood beside the low rosewood ledge, the cuffs of his crisp white thobe immaculate, his thumb resting against the smooth edge of his silver signet. He listened not with urgency, but with the steady, detached attention of someone tracking a debt that had ceased to concern him.

"He has summoned his brothers' sons," I said, my voice measured in the quiet room. "They will not touch the heavy latch from the hall. They will write a petition to attest that I entered unannounced, that the danger trailing the voice on that recording belongs solely to the woman who crossed his courtyard."

"Let them write," Bandar answered evenly. His dark eyes remained fixed on the door's perimeter, where the runner met the threshold.