Chapter 20 · Chapter 20

I rose from the edge of the mattress, the silence of the private wing settling cold against my skin the moment Salman’s footsteps receded into the gallery. My fingers were steady as I gathered my hair beneath the shaila, smoothing the pins into place before pulling the black silk of the abaya over my shoulders. The garment fell heavy and familiar, concealing every trace of the night that had passed between four stone walls.

Through the open door, the high-vaulted corridor acted as an acoustic horn, carrying voices from the threshold where the private wing met the outer hall.

"The ledger was sealed before the midnight hour," Ammi’s voice cut through the cool morning air, tight with suppressed fury. "The scribe remains under obligation to this household. Speak, young man. What was entered into the register before the doors were barred? What did she answer?"

I stepped into the dressing anteroom, pausing just shy of the threshold. The morning light filtered through the mashrabiya screen, casting diamond patterns across the polished marble.

In the outer hall, the family clerk stood stiffly against the wainscoting, his leather-bound portfolio clutched to his chest like an ineffective shield.