Chapter 24 · Chapter 24

The heavy footsteps sounded along the marble corridor before any voice announced them. It was not the discreet tread of the house staff bearing Gahwa, but the deliberate, heavy stride of an elder accustomed to having doors opened ahead of him.

I remained where I was, my black abaya falling straight to the polished floor, my hands resting still beneath the dark silk of my sleeves. The private wing was silent, sealed off behind its thick cedar door, but the outer corridor belonged to the house, and through the tall arched gallery, the murmur of the outer majlis had not yet completely died away.

"Turki." The voice came from the turn of the hallway, rasping and dry with age. "You have kept this wing sealed through two sittings. The men are asking whether you intend to answer for the contracts or let rumors divide what your father established."

Turki did not rush. He adjusted the crisp white cuffs of his thobe, his face settling into that cold, impenetrable mask that left nothing for anyone to read.