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Chapters (55)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Map
  5. DRAMATIS PERSONAE
  6. one
  7. PROLOGUE
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 01. Maram
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. two
  16. 7
  17. 02. Maram
  18. 8
  19. 9
  20. 03. Maram
  21. 10
  22. 11
  23. 12
  24. 13
  25. 04. Maram
  26. 14
  27. 15
  28. 16
  29. 17
  30. 18
  31. 19
  32. 20
  33. 21
  34. 05. Maram
  35. 22
  36. 23
  37. 24
  38. 06. Maram
  39. three
  40. 25
  41. 26
  42. 27
  43. 07. Maram
  44. 28
  45. 29
  46. 30
  47. 31
  48. 32
  49. Coda: Maram
  50. POLITICAL FACTIONS
  51. THE VATHEK CONQUEST
  52. KEY TERMS
  53. Also by Somaiya Daud
  54. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  55. Newsletter Sign-up

When Idris and I walked together in public now we were the subject of curious stares and romantic sighs. We’d become symbolic of all that had been thwarted under Mathis’s rule, and all that was possible despite it. I wasn’t sure I enjoyed being part of something so public—my love for Idris had ever been both sacred and private. But we’d needed to usher in the dissolution of his marriage to Maram in a way that did not make her a villain or destabilize the support of the makhzen. As we walked through the marketplace I noted the young girls who watched us with wide eyes and the grandmothers who smiled, as if they were party to a secret about our romance that the very young couldn’t hope to comprehend.

Buchra trailed after Idris and me, pausing to sample fruit and spices, drawn here and there by the sparkle of jewelry and brilliant scarves. The guards, I was relieved, were not as intrusive as I’d feared. They were all Zidane and Kushaila, and had, I was sure, grown up running in souks just like this. They remained a respectful distance away and blended into the crowd well. I’d feared they would keep the other souk-goers away, but the people continued to mill about, kept at arm’s length by their own awe.

I plucked a jar of saffron threads from a vender shelf and held it up for Idris to sniff.

“It smells … good?” he said, and I laughed. “You won’t mind it, will you?”

“Mind what?” I asked as we moved to another seller.

“Splitting our time between here, Walili, and Al Hoceima,” he clarified.

I frowned. I hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t thought about anything. Maram wanted our wedding to precede her coronation and I’d agreed, but I also wanted my family to be here and I didn’t know when that would be. It felt like betrayal to make plans for my married life without my mother’s advice.

“Amani,” he said, and touched my arm.

I gave him a reassuring smile. “Ask me again when my parents are here,” I said.

“They will get here before the wedding,” he said. “I promise. The fighting makes it dangerous, but they will get here.”