I didn’t know. Maram’s resemblance to her mother, to the Kushaila, was a sore topic. I didn’t know if she would be offended, if she would lash out. I didn’t want to presume. And it felt almost like a crime to pretend to understand the strange, violent line she straddled between her mother’s people and her father’s.

“I—I’m surprised,” I managed at last. “No one talks about it.”

“You will find I am not one who cares for the rules of polite conversation.”

“That must have served you very well in your time at the Ziyaana,” I drawled sarcastically.

She grinned again. “I survived. We all do.”

By tacit agreement we returned to the bower together. I’timad surprised me a second time by looping her arm with mine, and when I looked at her, startled, she flashed me a grin again. Tariq rose from my seat when we reentered the bower, but I waved him down and found a seat opposite him, Idris, and ‘Adil. ‘Adil and Idris were currently deep in negotiations. From what I could gather, ‘Adil thought he was old enough to ride the horses. Idris disagreed.

A servant brought over a steaming glass of tea just as Idris turned to me, a gleam in his eye.

“Whatever it is,” I said, cradling the glass, “the answer is no.”

His eyes widened. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“And yet,” I drawled, “I recognize that look.”

He grinned slyly, then turned back to his cousin. “The truth is, dear cousin, you’re negotiating with the wrong person.”

‘Adil frowned. “The horses belong to you.”

“They belong to us,” he said. “They are a wedding gift, you see. And my lady wife—”

“Idris,” I warned.

“I’m only telling the truth,” he replied, all innocence. “My wife is the higher rank. So, in truth, the decision falls to her.”

“Absolutely not,” I said coolly. “This is a family affair. I recuse myself from this negotiation.”

I’timad’s eyes widened. “But aren’t you family now?” she said. “You have married my cousin.”

“Yes, Maram,” Idris said. “Is my family not your family as well?”

I did not answer the question. I had no idea how Maram would answer the question. Instead, I did as she would do and deflected. I set the glass down on the ceramic tabletop with a sharp clink and raised an eyebrow at the young boy, my expression cool.

“So, what is it you want, then?”

‘Adil’s posture straightened immediately. “To ride one of the stallions, cousin.”

“Absolutely not,” I said, watching his mouth tighten angrily. “You aren’t tall enough.”

“I could be!”

“This is not an argument of hypotheticals,” I replied. “It is a negotiation. You will have to make a concession.”

He frowned thoughtfully while Idris watched, bemused. “I will ride … under supervision.”