I felt the stress of the last few weeks roll off my shoulders.

When I was small all I’d wanted was to get away from the quiet of our small village. I’d wanted to see the world beyond Cadiz, the cities on Andala, the megatropolises in the Wizaar system, the parliamentary buildings on Maron. And though I hadn’t seen half of that, I felt as if I’d seen enough. I would have traded anything to go back to my parents’ farm. I would have given anything for my day to start with milking goats and to end in front of a fire with my brothers.

Would I ever return to Cadiz? Would I be able to stomach my old life, given everything I’d endured?

Only Dihya knew, and he gave me no answers. My thoughts were too wound up in it all, and that, I thought, was why I heard no one climb the tower steps.

She stood in the exact center of the room, though how she’d gotten there I couldn’t imagine. She was dark-skinned and dressed all in black. Her hair was bound into hundreds of thin braids, and nearly half of those braids wore small gold rings. A collection of them springing from her widow’s peak were white. She wore a mantle against the chill, a heavy black velvet; and when the wind caught at its edges and it rippled, it seemed to be made not of velvet but of feathers. Instead of a qaftan she wore a simple blouse and trousers, with leather boots made for walking through the desert. Around her wrists were heavy silver braces, scuffed as if she’d actually been in fights. Most astonishing of all were the marks on her face—on her cheeks and on her forehead, she bore daan similar to Houwa’s—sharp, pictographic representations of feathers. One on each cheek, and two crossed like swords on her forehead.

“You look surprised to see me,” she said as I rose to my feet. Heat emanated from her as if a furnace burned at her center, but what was perhaps more surprising was the warmth with which she looked at me.

“Have I got the date and time wrong?” she asked.

Dihya, she was tall. As tall as Idris, no doubt.

And she thought I was Maram.

I remained where I was—Maram and I were identical, but I didn’t know how well this woman knew her.

“I think,” I started in Maram’s tone, “that I forgot we were meeting today.”

The girl frowned a little. “We’ve met every day since we’ve come here. Why should today have been any different?”

“I thought I would have to take my place in the court today. The stewardess has arrived.”