He said it matter-of-factly and without affect, but he might as well have thrown something at Maram. Her face drained of color and she set the pastry down.

“Like me,” she said softly.

“That is up to you, Maram.”

“It is not up to me. My reputation has already been cemented thanks to my lineage.”

“That is where Amani comes in,” he said, setting a shatranj piece on the map.

Maram’s eyes gleamed, as if she might shed a tear at any moment. “The implication being that I cannot be loved on my own.”

“Do you know what your weakness is, Maram?”

I nearly laid a hand over Idris’s—the flat affect of his voice receded and in its place was a kernel of grief. I expected Maram to rise to her feet and leave, and instead she lifted her chin angrily.

“I suspect you will tell me.”

“You are quick to anger, and quicker to act on that anger. Your world is large and your view of it very small—you do not think on consequences or the future, only your personal vengeance and its satisfaction.”

“You have no idea—” Maram began, her hands pressed against the table.

“You are not the only one,” Idris roared, and at that I did lay my hand over his. I did not think he’d ever raised his voice to Maram, for her face was colorless but for two angry red spots high on her cheeks.

“Idris—” I started, and he jerked his hand from under mine.

“You are not the only one,” he said again, still angry but quieter. “All of us have suffered one loss or another. All of us live in the shadow of that. And those losses do not absolve us of the choices we make.”

We sat in silence, Idris’s eyes now fixed on the map, Maram’s eyes fixed on a point over his shoulder. Her chest rose and fell as if she struggled for air, and her mouth, which had been firm with rage, now trembled as if she were afraid.

At last, she spoke. “Amani thinks—”

Idris’s eyes jerked up, first to her and then to me. “What does Amani think?” he said.

“I want to live up to what she thinks of me,” she said softly, as if I weren’t there. “But the people do not love me as she does.”

“The people think you are against them,” I interjected softly. “Prove to them that you are not.”

She drew in a trembling breath. “Do you know the cost of siding with them—it isn’t neutral. I am either with the Vath or against them.” She came to her feet and began to pace. “There are no half measures. I can’t have both … Can I?”

I didn’t know what went through her mind, but she paused in her pacing and frowned.

“What about the Banu Ifran?” she said, looking at Idris.