Chapter 34 · Chapter 34

Nayef did not hurry to set the finjan down. He held the small porcelain cup between his thumb and forefinger, letting the steam carry the sharp scent of crushed cardamom into the space between us.

Across the perimeter of the room, the elders of Al-Zamil and Al-Shammari sat beneath the heavy carved moldings, their hands resting motionless upon silver-tipped walking sticks, their gazes fixed upon the center where the boundary dispute had smoldered for five months.

"You heard her words," Nayef said, his voice level, carrying without strain to the furthest corner of the hall. He did not glance at my uncle, nor did he look to Abu Fahad for agreement. His authority was an unbroken line, established not by volume, but by the quiet weight of a man whose word had never bent under pressure.

"Haifa bint Abdulaziz speaks from her own standing. The deeds concerning the eastern tracts of the covenanted lands were registered under her name by her father’s hand, witnessed by the court in Riyadh, and validated by the council before the foundation stone of the northern gate was ever laid."

My uncle shifted against the damask cushions, his fingers tightening over the carved armrest.