Chapter 22 · Chapter 22

The morning sun cut across the courtyard in sharp, blinding angles of pale gold, washing over the pale Riyadh limestone and the quiet choreography of the estate. Two housemen in crisp white thobes moved along the perimeter with silver trays, murmuring low greetings as they set down fresh carafes of water and bowls of polished Sukkari dates upon the low brass tables.

I did not hurry. To quicken one's stride beneath the gaze of the courtyard was to admit that an elder's words had shaken your balance. My black abaya fell straight and heavy to the marble, whispering only faintly against the stone floor. Under my tarha, my hair was pinned securely, my chin level.

Every staff member standing beside the arched colonnades saw me pass the corridor leading to the secluded annex rooms without pausing, turning my back entirely on the retreat Ammah Hessa had urged me to take.

Ahead lay the wide, double cedar doors of the main morning majlis, opened completely to catch the crisp early air before the heat settled over the city.