Chapter 32 · Untitled Chapter

I drank the small draught slowly, the rich notes of cardamom settling against the roof of my mouth. When the cup was empty, I tilted the finjan lightly in my palm to show I required no more.

Saud reached forward before I could lower it to the brass; his fingers did not brush mine, but with measured calm, he took the finjan from my hand and set her cup back on the family carpet. The quiet that held the room was vast and absolute, thick with the scent of smoldering oud drifting from the silver mabkhara in the corner.

My uncle remained where he stood, his hand resting heavily against the carved arm of his chair, the parchment of the ledger forgotten on the small table between us. Around the perimeter of the diwan, the men of both households watched, their bodies motionless against the woven bolsters. No one reached for gahwa. No one murmured an excuse or raised a dissent.

Saud shifted beside me. He did not rise with haste, nor did he raise his voice to demand the room’s attention. He possessed the quiet gravity that made men turn without instruction.