And so the day went. It felt strange: because it was a Salihi celebration, there were only Andalaans present. And though Idris and I had focused our efforts on cultivating relationships with three families, many had been invited. I heard cries in Kushaila, Zidane, and Tashfin chiding Idris to keep his seat, watch that step, take firmer hold of the reins. I wondered if this was what M’Gaadir was like before the occupation, if such things had taken place when Houwa reigned as queen. I had never felt so at home, and yet so apart from the whole world.

If I were myself I would be down near the paddock, cheering Idris on. But I was not myself, I was Maram, and she seldom deigned to mingle among courtiers at all. She was practiced at remaining aloof and apart, and it was what had landed her in this situation.

Idris maneuvered the horse over a jumping post, then reined him in and turned him so that he could look at me. He’d shed all his formal outerwear and was now clad in his trousers and a tunic that stuck to his back with sweat. His hair had come loose and clung to the sides of his face. He grinned at me, triumphant, and I felt an answering, irrepressible grin spread over my features.

“Your Highness?”

I pulled my gaze away from Idris and to Rabi’a and Buchra. They stood just outside the limits of my awning. Buchra’s eyes were fixed to the ground, her cheeks flushed. Rabi’a, on the other hand, smiled just a little, enough to seem friendly. They sank to their knees together, then rose a moment later.

“We have come to apologize,” Rabi’a said.

I waited. Maram would not have let the offense pass unremarked on, and she would make them work for her forgiveness. So I waited, my face empty of the smile I’d shared so freely with Idris, Khulood, and I’timad. I needed them and the rebels needed them, but I could not jeopardize my position in the court as Maram. Rabi’a understood and touched her sister’s arm. Buchra looked up at me and if anything her flush deepened, but to her credit she didn’t look away. Instead she sank back to her knees.

“I was unforgivably rude to you on our arrival,” she said, voice soft. “I have no excuse and I beg your pardon.”

“If you are not fit to present yourself at court, then do not come to court,” I said, my voice even. “It is a simple lesson to learn, though the price is often high.”