I nodded. “It’s no easy thing I ask, but if Nadine even suspects that I have risen above my station— If you can—”

“I will make the request and tell Arinaas what you do in the meantime.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. By brokering this alliance, by trying to secure my family’s safety, I was taking on Nadine, and she had punished me for less. But if I could secure the Banu Ifran for both Maram and the rebels, their combined forces might be enough to save us. To save our world.

“Thank you, Furat.”

“No thanks for what should be done,” she replied, and squeezed my hand. “How long do you think you’ll need?”

I frowned. “I’d plan on the length of our stay here,” I replied. “I haven’t even met Rabi’a. I’ll be able to tell you how likely it is that she’ll turn rebel soon.”

“Amani,” she said, a warning in her voice. “Don’t trust her—whatever love she has for the province, it was bought in blood.”

“Her mother—” I protested.

“Her mother raised her,” Furat said. “Trained her.”

“What dark times,” I murmured, “that we have been turned against each other thus.”

“And what a rosy memory of our past you have,” she laughed. “Don’t forget—civil war made us a ripe target. And before that, before we were Andalaan, we were tribes warring against each other. You should know this—half the poems out of antiquity are about war parties.”

I smiled sadly. “You’re right. It doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

She hummed in agreement. “I’ll secure a communicator for you. In the meantime, be careful. You are one of the few good people on this estate. Don’t let the makhzen manipulate you for it.”

“Siha, Furat,” I said, kissing her on the cheek.

“Baraka,” she replied, and was gone.

11

The Banu Ifran sisters were not Kushaila like many of the makhzen who had come to the walima, but Zidane like Furat: a tribal confederation as old as the Kushaila, and close to us historically. The elder sister, Rabi’a, was in her early twenties, and had recently inherited leadership of the family from her mother. The younger, Buchra, had never set foot outside Qarmutta or been presented at court. They were a prosperous family, and their province had not suffered the indignities that Idris’s province, Ghazlan, had suffered. Their mother had collaborated with the Vath after Najat’s marriage to Mathis, and they had been richly rewarded.

Their arrival was heralded by a soft chime ringing throughout the courtyard, and the doors at its north end groaning open.