Chapter 40 · Chapter 40

The morning broke without warmth, bringing a dry wind that rattled the brittle pomegranate boughs in the courtyard. The city woke to a sound that was neither church bell nor the rumble of merchant carts from the Zacatín. It began with the flat, rhythmic strike of a copper kettle drum echoing off the stone facades of the lower town, followed by the brassy blast of clarions near the Royal Chancellery.

Saad was below at the heavy cedar threshold, his posture anchored to the stones as the wardens gathered in the lane. His hands had never trembled, keeping the deliberate, unyielding precision he assumed whenever danger stepped into the open street.

No one stood beside me at the arched window overlooking the alley, yet the command he had given before bolting the outer barrier steadied the air before the panic of the quarter could seep through the masonry.

"Stay within the inner courtyard, Sayyidati," his words remained with me, quiet and immovable, an instruction forged from long habit before the court's reach could breach the house.