“‘Cost’ being the operative word,” I said with a lopsided smile. “Don’t worry—one way or another, I’ll get the information we need.”

Furat smiled back. “I never doubted it. We’ll need it three days before the event to plan properly.” She held out a small gel-like tab, no bigger than my smallest fingernail. “Place this on any of her networked devices—it will scan for the information and relay it to us.” I reached out for it, but she closed her hand over it. “Be careful, Amani. Nadine will always be dangerous.”

“I know that better than most,” I said. “And yet I’m here.”

“Yes. We are lucky to have you,” she said, and kissed my cheek.

“Baraka, Furat,” I said.

“Siha, Amani.”

24

I joined Rabi’a for dinner a few nights later. Her dining salon was a small terrace, shielded by a wooden trellis and a plasma shield. A small probe hovered in the corner, beeping at regular intervals, and would emit a single sharp blast if it detected any listening devices. The stone floor was covered in thick carpets and piled in turn with cushions around the low dining table. The spread of food was, to my surprise, not Zidane but Kushaila. I had expected her to serve her own ethnic fare in her quarters, and it was an unnecessary but welcome kindness that instead she’d served mine.

We were quiet as the servants finished laying out the dishes, and my eyes were drawn to the scene outside. At night, the city looked like a strand of pearls winding its way around the hill atop which we sat. My mind wandered as I wound the chain at my waist around my fingers. I heard, distantly, the click of the door shutting behind the last of the servants but couldn’t pull myself back. We would leave M’Gaadir in two days. Maram and the makhzen had worked hard to make this a successful endeavor. They’d chosen their Vathek accompaniment carefully, the locations, the public acts—it was all coming together.

Rabi’a rapped a finger on the table, at last drawing my attention back to the present.

“So?” she asked as she reached for the teapot. “What happened? With you and Idris.”

I stared at her blankly for a moment. I couldn’t tell if this was an olive branch or a barb. Since we’d allied things had been easier between us—since she’d met Arinaas her respect for me had clearly risen. And yet she’d picked the topic I wanted to talk about the least.

“Why does something have to have happened?” I avoided looking her in the eye even as my heart felt as if it were being wrung in my chest. I had talked with no one of what had happened between Idris and I. I had no desire to repeat or retread the events of that night.