Chapter 24 · Chapter 24

The bitterness of the cardamom settled upon my tongue, sharp and grounding. I set the finjan down upon the low console with a steady hand, tilting the rim slightly in silent acknowledgment that it was enough.

Beyond the thick cedar panels of the corridor, distant chimes signaled the outer gate. Footsteps echoed over the polished stone of the gallery, followed by the quiet murmur of the steward announcing the notary's presence in the grand majlis. They had arrived with the official ledgers—the binding registry of deeds, trusts, and lines of inheritance that the hall had tried so desperately to keep within their grasp.

Majed did not rise immediately. He stood tall against the low illumination of the room, his white thobe crisp, his dark eyes observing the small velvet-lined case I drew from my belongings.

Inside rested my mother’s seal: carved carnelian set in old silver, bearing the cipher of the line that had never bowed to proxy.

“They believe the document can only be ratified if you stand before them in the public hall, Dalal,” Majed remarked, his voice quiet, carrying the faint, cold amusement of a man who had already anticipated every maneuver. “They assume absence is forfeit.”