Chapter 26 · Chapter 26

The echoes of Sulaiman’s departure had barely settled before the inner doors were drawn back for the evening gathering.

It was not a general reception, but an intimate assembly of maternal kin—those who believed blood entitled them to sharper scrutiny than strangers. In the long majlis lined with muted wool runners, the women sat with their tarhas loosened over silk tunics, while the men congregated by the tall glass perimeter overlooking the walled courtyard.

The scent of burning Cambodian oud rose from the brass mabkhara in the corner, heavy and slow in the cooled air.

I remained seated slightly back from the center divan, my abaya draped fully over my knees, a finjan resting cold and untouched between my fingers. I had tilted the small cup slightly outward when the boy made his second round with the dallah, signaling I required nothing more.

"Mariam."

The voice came from my right. It was Saud, the eldest son of my maternal uncle.