Chapter 27 · Chapter 27

The new attendant came forward with measured steps, his gaze anchored to the edge of the woven runner beneath his sandals. He was an older man from the outer grounds, his crisp white thobe uncreased, his hands tucked quietly against his side until he reached the line where the guests’ perimeter ended.

"Abu Fahad," Salman said from the center of the hall, his voice carrying the effortless weight that kept every whisper in check. He did not lean forward; his posture against the high back of the seat remained unyielding, the amber beads resting stationary between his fingers.

"You hold the keys to the northern court and the side gate leading toward the garden wall. Tell this room who turned the iron latch between midnight and the third watch."

I kept my chin level, the edges of my tarha framing my face in sharp stillness. Though thirty elders and kin sat along the low divans, watching every motion of the inquiry, none allowed their eyes to linger on me for more than a heartbeat.