Chapter 18 · Untitled Chapter

Faisal stood, his chest heaving beneath his linen thobe, but he knew better than to test the threshold of an Al-Dosari house once an Al-Otaibi daughter had drawn the line. Without another word, he gathered the folds of his cloak and stepped out into the blinding white light of the northern courtyard, leaving the heavy oak doors to click shut behind him.

The silence that settled over the majlis was thick with the scent of smoldering agarwood, but it did not last long.

Before the midday call could rise from the minarets beyond the estate walls, the side door opened. It was not another cousin seeking concessions, but Abu Tariq, the elderly clerk who had drafted contracts for my uncle’s branch of the family since before my father’s death.

He entered with measured, cautious steps, keeping his gaze respectfully lowered to the border of the Persian rug, clutching a stiff cream folio stamped with the wax seal of the family council.

"Sayyidati," Abu Tariq murmured, bowing his head slightly as he came to a halt two paces from where I stood.