The Unfinished Order

The written order lay open upon the low table of our Riyadh majlis, bearing my name toward disgrace before anyone learned whose signet had pressed the ink. My family demanded my silence, ready to cast the liability into the open hall. But before the judgment could settle, Faisal Al-Mutairi stepped between us, taking the document into his own hands and stating before every witness that whatever consequence remained would sit upon his name from tonight. He offered no softness, and he asked for no confession. When the heavy carved door of his private wing turned its lock from the outside, the silence waiting within was far more dangerous than the family left beyond it.