Chapter 37 · Chapter 37

The tall double doors of the majlis swung back beneath the steward’s quiet touch, letting the cool draft of the Riyadh night spill across the polished limestone. I walked through the grand gallery, the hem of my dark silk abaya trailing with a steady, unbroken cadence over the marble, Nayef pacing beside me.

He kept the deliberate, respectful distance demanded of a man who honored the threshold of public sight, his white thobe sharp against the ambient terrace lanterns, the scent of aged oud and dry desert wind following in his wake.

At the foot of the outer portico, the iron courtyard gates stood fully ajar. Beyond them lay the quiet northern sweep of the estate road, empty and unhindered, leading toward the glowing spine of the city. A dark vehicle waited by the curb, engine idling in total stillness, its driver standing far back with eyes lowered, awaiting a single directive.

Nayef halted at the top of the stone steps.