Chapter 22 · Chapter 22

The heavy iron gates of our compound in northern Riyadh parted smoothly, allowing the Lexus to glide past the row of manicured palms lining the private courtyard. The morning sun had climbed higher, casting sharp, pale shadows across the limestone paving. Before the engine had even settled into silence, I saw my brother, Bandar, stepping out from the shade of the portico.

He wore a crisp white thobe, but his posture lacked the easy repose of an elder son who believed his house had triumphed. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, his brow furrowed as he watched the vehicle come to a stop.

Nasser moved swiftly to open the rear passenger door, his head lowered in steady respect. "Sayyidati."

"Ya'teek al-afiyah, Nasser," I said, gathering the dark silk of my abaya and adjusting the edge of my shaila before stepping onto the heated stone.

Bandar did not wait for Nasser to withdraw. He took three long strides toward me, cutting through the courtyard's morning stillness. "Mariam.