It was an unusually quiet afternoon in the garden. The women and most of the children had gone inside to nap. Malik and a visitor, Prince Ali of the royal house of al-Rashad, sat at a table playing chess. Nearby, perched on a marble bench, Amira watched the game. Girls did not play chess, but Malik loved the game, and Amira had learned most of the moves by observing him.

Malik moved his knight to king five. “Watch your queen,” he said in a friendly manner.

Amira shook her head imperceptibly. Even she could see that this was not the real threat.

“Don’t worry about my queen,” the prince said, shifting it across the board and out of danger.

As soon as he removed his fingers from the piece, Malik pushed his own queen forward, capturing the pawn next to the black king. “Checkmate,” he said with a smile.

“Cheap trick!” the prince shouted, his face mottled with anger. With one sweep of his arm, he flipped the board from the table, sending pieces flying.

One hit Amira in the eye. “You hurt me,” she moaned and began to cry.

The prince froze for a moment. “Bitch,” he muttered, as if to cover his inexcusable display of temper.

Malik moved so quickly that Prince Ali was on his back before Amira realized that her brother had hit him.

The shock was so great that she quit sobbing and held her breath. For one man to lay hands on another was a terrible insult; to strike royalty was unthinkable. Had anyone seen? Across the garden, Bahia seemed to be study- ing the tops of the date palms.

The prince staggered to his feet. “You’ll pay for this,” he said—although he kept his distance.

Amira could see that Malik was afraid, but his voice revealed only con- tempt. “Oh, really? Who will you tell? Your father? Your brothers? Will you tell them what you said to my sister?”

The boy glared daggers, then stalked off without another word.

That night, Amira and Malik discussed the episode in thrilled whispers. She was certain that royal guards would arrive at any moment to arrest him; what he had done was against all the rules. With somewhat less confidence, he assured her that no such thing would happen. The other boy was too much of a coward, prince or no. Malik worked himself up to a bit of bravado. “The thing about rules, Little Sister, is that sometimes they have to be broken. What is important is to know when.”

Amira had never heard such a statement, not even from an adult, but somehow it fitted her brother. Besides being a scholar and a man of the world, Malik now appeared to her in the swashbuckling role of a desert bandit sheik.

O

“Mama, am I going to Victoria this fall?”