I huffed out a half laugh. “There seems little reason to bind him to me otherwise,” I said. “Maram likes him enough that she wouldn’t punish him in such a way.”

Khulood hummed noncommittally.

“Have I passed your test?” I said, and couldn’t keep a little of the sharpness out of my words. The gulf that had opened up between us had stung, though I’d understood it. Rabi’a had known and she had told Buchra. But the rest of the makhzen who’d cultivated close friendships with Maram hadn’t known how to treat me, though their friendships with Maram remained unharmed. I was an unknown quantity. What had they said to me and what to Maram, many of them wondered.

“Yes,” I’timad said. “You know, we do want to be friends. You’re marrying our cousin.”

“And someone who survived as you did in the Ziyaana,” Khulood added, “is not someone to be dismissed.”

It was not what I wanted, but what I wanted wasn’t realistic. I wanted to slip right back into the friendship I’d formed with them, instead of rebuilding from scratch. But there was no way to pick up the easy threads of conversations we’d had when they believed I was their future queen. And yet, I was a Ziyadi, soon to marry a Salihi, and a rebel. It was enough ground on which to begin.

When I returned to the palace, Maram was waiting for me in the courtyard. She rose to her feet while I instructed the handmaidens carrying my purchases to catalogue everything then store it. Maram watched, bemused, and when at last the girl departed she approached me.

“Your Grace,” I greeted her, sinking to my knees.

“Walk with me, cousin.”

Unlike I’timad, Maram did not loop her arm with mine. She looked as regal as ever, wrapped in the colors of her house, with a modest coronet settled in her hair. We strolled through wide halls and through gardens and courtyards, until we at last came to a terrace overlooking the horse paddock. I stifled a groan. Idris and ‘Imad were below as a trainer walked a new horse through its paces.

“There are worse vices,” Maram said with a smile. “I would ask how your time in the souk was, but that is quite evident.”

I opened my mouth to reply and was derailed by the subtle shift on her face. Her expression softened and the ever-present sarcastic lilt of her mouth eased. When I followed her gaze, it was back down to the paddock, where Aghraas had emerged in her usual attire, wrapped in a mantle against the cold. Beside her was Arinaas, similarly attired. One of her lieutenants had entered the paddock and dismissed the trainer.