Chapter 16 · Untitled Chapter

I adjusted the black folds of my abaya at the mirror, drawing the edges of my shaila close and pinning the dark silk until not a strand of hair escaped. The cloth fell straight and heavy, a clean barrier between the quiet sanctuary of the locked wing and the scrutiny waiting beyond the threshold.

Saud remained standing near the arched recess, his white thobe immaculate, his fingers still working the amber beads in that slow, measured cadence that signaled neither doubt nor haste.

He did not offer hollow words of comfort, nor did I ask for them. The weight of his word had already been set into the floor of the majlis before the witnesses of both houses. To linger behind the bolted door now would look like retreat, and retreat was a currency my uncle would trade on before the mid-morning heat settled over the city.

I stepped to the brass latch, pulled the heavy oak open, and walked into the corridor that led toward the majlis.

The morning light broke across the pale limestone pavers in sharp, pale angles.