The chambers I was allotted at M’Gaadir were nearly as run-down as my quarters in the Ziyaana. Instead of a single room and a garden, I’d been given a two-level suite with its own courtyard. A strange excess, but one I was grateful for even if I would rarely be allowed to use them. I drew in a breath, then stepped away. I’d been given a small reprieve since Maram had arrived as herself, but at any moment I could be expected to take her place. If the sound of footsteps echoing off the steps was any indication, Tala had at last come to collect me.

The estate was already in an uproar. In true Kushaila fashion, two of the families sworn to the Salihis had arrived ahead of schedule. The Mas’udis and Nasiris were makhzen who controlled less land but commanded as much respect as any of the old families. They had to be greeted by both Maram—myself—and Idris. I dressed quickly in a blue brocade qaftan with black stitching—it had a high collar and epaulets on each shoulder besides. I was not much one for armor, but it made me feel stronger to be so robed in Maram’s clothes as I entered a situation I very much did not want to.

The courtyard where the Salihi guests gathered opened out into an orchard that sloped down toward the city. Its trees were tall and thick enough that you could not see the city of M’Gaadir at all, and if we so wished it, we might raise the shield and block out its sounds as well. The stone walls were old, and so clean I thought their age had been made to show purposely, so that those who sat in their shadow would never forget where they stood.

There were tables and gazebos littered through the courtyard, and though the walls were old, the tiled floors—green and white and gold—gleamed in the early-afternoon sunlight. The courtiers played games and chatted, while Idris and I sat in a white and blue–tiled bower waiting to greet his cousins. Its wall faced the sea, with a great glassless window that framed where we sat. I could only imagine the image Idris and I made, though I was sure a moment later that it made no impression on the cousins.

There were only four of them and yet they entered with the sound of a dozen Kushaila cousins come to carouse and make merry. Idris was on his feet before any of them had greeted us properly, pulled into one bear hug and then another with the two young men. The young women were more sedate for their part and kissed his cheeks, once on the left and twice on the right.