Chapter 37 · Chapter 37

A heavy silence settled across the high-ceilinged majlis, dense with the bitter warmth of roasted cardamom and seasoned agarwood smoldering over the coals. Not a single elder moved along the low, carpeted diwans. In the corner near the carved brass braziers, the attendant holding the long-spouted silver dallah stood frozen, his eyes lowered toward the wool fringe of the runner.

Abu Fahad stared at me, his weathered jaw hardening until the neat white line of his beard pulled taut against the stiff collar of his thobe. His thumb stopped dead over his misbaha, pinning a single bead of polished amber in place.

"Measure your words with care, Mariam," Abu Fahad said, his voice quiet, stripped of the courteous indulgence usually granted to a daughter of Al-Khathlan. "You were brought into that house under our covenant. You crossed his perimeter not as his advocate, but as our witness. Forty days have passed without word. The banks hold no transfer bearing his personal seal. His commercial houses in the north sit under court stay.