When they were young, the two of them spent hours flipping through her father’s leather-bound story collections—and substituting themselves as the heroes. The fine woven rug on the library floor was transformed into Aladdin’s carpet at least a hundred times. In those moments, they were able to cast off the rigid roles they’d been born into—Rania the sheikh’s obedient daughter, Huda the scrappy village girl—sharing secrets and dreams they knew others would scoff at. They thought they’d ride that magical carpet forever, closer than teeth and tongue.

But all the fabled enemies they’d fought—the sea serpents vanquished, the forty thieves outwitted—weren’t enough to prepare them for what was to come. Real life in Iraq was far more perilous than a storybook monster. And their friendship was one of its many casualties. Rania eyed her empty backpack and took a deep breath. Like her father’s precious book collection, Huda belonged to the past. No matter what she wished, neither could be reclaimed.

“When did you arrive in Baghdad?” she asked Tom and Ally, fixing a smile on her lips. “I hope you’re enjoying our city.”

“We arrived about a month ago, and I’m afraid it’s been nonstop work since then.” Tom threw his wife an apologetic glance. “I’d probably be at the embassy now if Ally hadn’t insisted I take the afternoon off.”

“I’ve wanted to visit Mutanabbi market ever since I first saw it on an old postcard. I would’ve come earlier, on my own, but I wasn’t sure if I should.” Ally pulled a square of black silk from her handbag. “I’ve been wearing this out in the market. But I see you’re here without a male escort or a head scarf.”

“There’s no need for a scarf in Baghdad,” said Rania. “But I can see how the market might be a little intimidating for a foreigner on her own.”

Ally glanced up, and Rania thought she saw a touch of her own mournful nostalgia reflected in those cobalt eyes. In a blink, it was gone. If Ally had regrets, she knew how to hide them. Foreigners and Iraqis, Rania thought, they weren’t so different underneath.

“You obviously appreciate fine books,” said Rania. “Are you interested in other art forms? I have a gallery; it’s nothing fancy, but we have an exhibition at the moment sponsored by the German Cultural Center. They are having a gathering next week, some drinks and so on in the garden. I would be honored if you came.”