Chapter 32 · Untitled Chapter

A man of Mansour’s standing never allowed an unanswered gesture to linger as an open question. Silence alone was not enough to seal an absolute refusal; in our world, ambiguity was merely an invitation for another messenger.

On the low brass stand beside where I sat, the singed scrap of parchment rested—the repudiated covenant bearing the seal of his cousins, cast into the glowing charcoal the previous evening. Its edges were curled into brittle black carbon, the ink cracked and blistered beyond salvage.

Mansour reached down, his fingers lifting the charred fragment without hesitation. He did not look at the ruined script. His stride was even and unhurried as he crossed the expanse of the majlis back toward the entrance.

At a slight lift of his hand, the house steward unbolted the heavy timber door once more.

The envoy had not reached the outer gate; he still lingered under the arched shade of the portico, his attendant waiting beside him with the round, silver-plated tray customarily offered to receive a counter-document or a reciprocal token.