Chapter 38 · Untitled Chapter

The majlis was suspended in stillness, the weight of every eye fixed across the wide carpet. The thin trail of blue smoke rising from the silver mabkhara in the corner had thinned to an almost invisible ribbon, carrying the warm, bitter resin of aged oud into the high-ceilinged room. Across from the divan, Salman sat rigid, the kin gathered beside him waiting for me to stand and accept the road they had opened before dawn.

Saud did not speak for me. He remained in his place at the head of the low divan, the stark white cotton of his thobe crisp against the dark wool cushions, his right hand resting motionless on his knee. Between us on the brass tray, the two small porcelain cups rested side by side, their rims touching.

I smoothed the black silk of my abaya over my lap, feeling the familiar comfort of the fabric against my wrists, and lifted my eyes to Salman before the entire gathering.

"You came to offer an erased ledger if I walk out that gate tonight," I said, my voice steady, carrying without strain to every witness in the room.