Chapter 14 · Chapter 14

I held the warm porcelain of the finjan between my fingers, letting the heat steady my pulse. Across the carved low table, Majed straightened with deliberate unhurried grace. His white thobe fell into sharp, unwrinkled lines, the crisp fabric catching the early amber light filtering through the high clerestory slats.

Reaching down with calm precision, he fastened the heavy gold link at his left cuff, his expression unreadable, settled in the quiet gravity that had governed every breath between us since the door clicked shut the previous night.

A single, muted tap sounded against the heavy timber of the outer threshold. It was not the urgent hammering of those waiting in the public courtyard below, but the discreet signal of an attendant who knew never to raise his voice in the private corridor.

Majed did not rush. He turned his wrist once, ensuring the second cuff sat flush against his wrist, before turning away from the low divan. Before he stepped toward the heavy mahogany door, his eyes rested on me, taking in the loose drape of my hair and the dark fabric gathered around my shoulders.