Chapter 18 · Chapter 18

The latch had not yet clicked against the cedar frame when my uncle's voice cut through the courtyard, sharp and stripped of its measured courtesy.

"Bring the box," he commanded.

From the shade of the outer arcade, an attendant hurried forward carrying the lacquered case of the family seals. Ammi did not wait for me to cross the inner foyer. His stride was swift, the hem of his dark cloak brushing the stone as he closed the distance between us, catching the heavy door before it swung shut.

"You mistake restraint for concession, Hanan," he said, his tone dropping low so the stewards along the colonnade would hear only the cadence of authority, not the desperation beneath it. He withdrew the rolled parchment from his sleeve and flattened it against the carved wood of the doorframe with the flat of his palm. Beside him, the clerk flipped open the case, lifting the carved signet of my father's line and the red wax cake.

"You will impress the mark here," my uncle said, his hand gripping the edge of the sheet, pressing it toward me until the paper rattled against the grain. "Before noon.