Chapter 17 · Untitled Chapter

The iron gates at the perimeter had barely groaned shut behind Sultan when the intercom at the outer vestibule buzzed again. The morning had grown sharp and pale, the Riyadh sun bleaching the courtyard stones to a blinding chalk, but the courtyard offered no silence. A second car had pulled up past the palms—a pearl-white Land Cruiser, parked with the deliberate impudence of kin who believe blood renders an appointment obsolete.

From the high turn of the gallery, I adjusted the black silk of my tarha, pinning the fold secure beneath my chin before descending the wide limestone stairs. I heard the voice echoing through the vaulted threshold before I reached the lower hall. It belonged to Faisal, my mother’s nephew, carrying the brisk, proprietary cadence of men who consider women’s choices an administrative error to be corrected before noon.

"Tell your master that I am not an outsider seeking a charity contract," Faisal’s voice cut across the marble antechamber, stiff and sharp. "I am her cousin. My mother carried her across the threshold of our grandfather’s house in Diriyah when she was three. I do not wait in a driveway like an unpaid merchant.