Chapter 26 · Chapter 26

Another witness was called forward to the perimeter of the low table, his sandals left by the threshold, his voice subdued as he addressed the assembly. One by one, they were brought before the floor, their accounts measured against the enduring silence of the hall.

Salman sat motionless in the sadr, his posture unyielding, his hand resting beside the cold finjan. He did not look at me, nor did he interrupt as the man spoke of the hour, the perimeter wall, and the servant who had carried the silver tray past the gallery before midnight.

The public ledger no longer bore the accusation against my name—that paper had already been withdrawn and locked away from their ink—yet the elders persisted in exhausting every man who had stood within the courtyard that evening.

"He speaks of the northern corridor," my uncle interjected from among the seated ranks, his voice tight, pressing the edge of his permitted inquiry. "The corridor where Lady Huda was observed before the gates were barred."

Salman did not shift his seat, nor did his expression warm.