Rania raised her chin imperiously.

“Sorrow for the oath breaker,” she declared, “and for the generation that follows her.”

Huda nodded and echoed her words. Slowly, their eyes swiveled to the dagger. Rania swallowed nervously. Huda wondered if she would back out. Would the oath count if it wasn’t sealed in blood? Without it, would Rania return to her new friends and forget all about her vow with a simple village girl?

“Do you want to skip the blood part?” Huda offered reluctantly.

“No way.” Rania shook her head. “That’s the most important thing.”

Huda grinned in relief.

“Okay, let’s prick our thumbs and press them together.” She handed the dagger to Rania. “You do it, cut my thumb.”

“Really?” Rania winced. “Are you sure?”

“Do it,” said Huda. Rania wouldn’t find many girls at Baghdad Ladies High School prepared to risk a digit for a friend.

Rania raised the knife, grit her teeth, and jabbed the point into the soft flesh of Huda’s thumb.

“Ouch!” Huda hobbled about, trying not to bleed on her long dress. “I thought you’d give me a countdown.”

Rania eyed the blood dripping from Huda’s thumb onto the sand. Her face turned the color of summer grass.

“Hurry.” She thrust the knife at Huda. “Before I lose my nerve.”

Huda pressed the dagger to Rania’s thumb, felt the skin resist the blade. Rania closed her eyes and turned her head. Huda pushed. The skin parted beneath the knife like a boiled egg, deeper than she expected. Rania’s eyes flew open, big and wide as a calf’s. They grabbed each other’s hand and pressed their thumbs together.

“Sisters forever.” They locked eyes. “Or sorrow for us and the generation to come.”

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

Baghdad, 2002

Huda paced her backyard, trying to brush off her spat with her husband. In the distance, above al-Dora refinery, columns of flames pierced the night. An easterly wind pushed the stench of the burning gas away from New Baghdad, so all Huda could smell were the orange and apricot trees by the fence. She knew the wind could turn at any time, but right then the gas flares were beautiful, like candles lined up on a giant’s birthday cake.

The bell rang at the front gate. Huda paused mid-step and wondered, Had Abdul Amir forgotten his keys when he stormed off to the coffee shop? Or had her husband cooled down and decided to eat dinner with her after all? Huda hurried inside through the kitchen door. A nougat box lay spread-eagled on the counter, cellophane wrappers strewn like evidence of a hasty crime. Huda frowned and swept them into the bin. So much for her diet.