Buchra was still on her knees. After a beat I waved a hand, bidding her stand, and gestured to empty spaces among the cushions. They took seats and turned their eyes to the ongoing spectacle. The paddock had been extended for, of all things, a race. I’timad and Khulood made their way back up the hillside just as a series of serving girls appeared with trays of tea and food. Introductions were made and then the five of us sat together and waited while Tala poured tea for us.

The other girls chatted lightly, about the weather and the horses, but Buchra kept her eyes focused on her lap, where her hands clasped each other tightly.

“You have not been at court,” Khulood said lightly, tilting her head just a little. “I would have remembered you.”

Buchra hunched her shoulders, and her face flushed bright enough that I could see it past the strands of hair she allowed to obscure her features.

“She was not presented,” Rabi’a said coolly.

I’timad raised an eyebrow. “Why ever not?”

I hid my expression behind a tea glass. I’timad knew why neither Buchra nor Rabi’a would have been in the Ziyaana in their childhood. Their mother had been a full collaborator with the Vathek government and was richly rewarded for it. There was no need to charge her children with the cost of other people’s rebellion. But I was curious how Rabi’a would respond, faced with two girls who had paid that price, along with their parents and their siblings.

“I did not want to go.” Four pairs of eyes, including mine, turned to look at Buchra in surprise. She’d tucked her hair behind her ears and lifted her chin despite the persistent flush of embarrassment.

“We’ve all heard the stories,” she continued.

“Buchra,” her sister said in warning.

“The stories?” Khulood repeated, voice flat.

“That children of the makhzen go missing without rhyme or reason,” Buchra said softly. “That no one is safe. Even the prince’s cousin wasn’t safe.”

“Oh, ‘Adil will turn up—” I’timad started, tone jovial.

“The Imperial Garda took him,” I interrupted before she could finish. The girls went silent.

I opened my mouth then closed it again. What could Maram say to these girls? What could I? Promises were empty if they weren’t kept, but I thought Maram wanted to keep this promise. I knew she did—had we not spoken of it long into the night?

“They took him?” I’timad repeated, voice hoarse. I forced myself to meet her eyes, which were wide, though dry.

“I don’t know why—”

“You don’t know?” I’timad echoed me a second time.

“No, I do not,” I said, sharpening my voice. I took a deep breath and softened my voice. “But I don’t mean to allow such things to continue.”

“You don’t?”