Chapter 17 · Untitled Chapter

The silence in the majlis stretched thin and taut, held only by the dry hiss of embers in the hearth and the heavy, sweet resin of burning oud drifting from the silver mabkhara.

My uncle, seated two cushions away, did not turn his head toward me, but his fingers tightened on his string of amber prayer beads until the knuckles showed pale against the dark wool of his bisht.

To challenge my seat now, after Saud had placed his own cup upon the carpet before the elders, was to challenge the weight of an Al-Dosari pledge in open hall.

Before my uncle could assemble words sharp enough to cut without drawing blood, the heavy timber of the outer gate groaned against its iron hinges.

Footsteps echoed along the stone corridor outside—hurried, unyielding, carrying the weight of men who did not wait for an invitation to cross a threshold. The house steward appeared at the arched doorway of the majlis, his gaze fixed respectfully on the floorboards just before his toes.

"Abu Fahad," the steward said, addressing my uncle with a measured bow, "an envoy from the Al-Dosari branch waits in the inner courtyard. It is Khalid Al-Dosari.