Chapter 34 · Untitled Chapter

The heavy cedar door clicked shut behind us, but the silence of the private wing did not completely mask the gathering murmur from the outer majlis. Word traveled swiftly across woven wool and polished marble; the empty car had returned through the northern gates without me, and the ledger of the night demanded an accounting that could no longer be deferred.

Bandar did not rush. He adjusted the crisp cuff of his white thobe, his movements deliberate and unhurried. When he opened the heavy door once more, it was not to release me to the cold courtyard, but to stand at the threshold where the private corridor met the hall of council. He remained between me and the room, his broad shoulders framing the scene before us.

I stepped up beside him, my black abaya gathered neatly, the dark folds of my shaila pinned in flawless composure. In the public eye of the house, there was no trembling, no sign of the hours we had spent locked beyond that door. There was only the calm reality of a woman whose name was no longer written on the denunciation.

The majlis was full.