Chapter 16 · Untitled Chapter

The silence inside the private wing did not break immediately. Outside, the gray light of early morning began to wash through the high, arched windows, turning the pale marble of the gallery into dull silver. Saud did not turn toward me with an interrogation, nor did he offer praise for standing against my uncle.

He merely walked to the side table, poured cold water from a glass carafe into a tumbler, and placed it within my reach before taking his place once more on the long divan.

"The sun is up," I said quietly, adjusting the dark drape of my tarha over my shoulder. My pulse still hammered faintly against my ribs, though my hands remained steady.

"The sun rises every day over Riyadh, Maha," Saud replied, his tone even, carrying the deep, unhurried cadence that belonged to the high-walled estates of the north. "It does not dictate who crosses my threshold."

Before I could answer, the sharp chiming of the courtyard intercom cut through the muted hum of the wing’s air conditioning. It sounded once, then twice—deliberate, persistent, lacking the discreet patience expected of dawn visitors.

Saud did not frown.