A tremor shook her, just as it had in the gallery when Rania turned to greet her, elegant as a pharaoh’s queen. Huda had armed herself with the memories of all that Rania had done, and all that it had cost. But when she looked into her amber eyes, it was as if they’d traveled twenty years back in time, to when they were girls, whispering secrets in each other’s ears. Despite her intentions, Huda’s heart had swelled, repeating patterns it learned long ago. She hated Rania for that too.

Abdul Amir bent down and wrenched a dandelion from the lawn. It snapped off at the stem.

“It must have been difficult, seeing her again.” He grunted and dug his fingers deeper into the earth until he tore out the fleshy root. “I’m sorry I couldn’t spare you that.”

It was too dark to be sure, but Huda sensed her husband’s cheeks were flushed with shame.

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “Abu Issa told you to stay home.”

“He was right; Ally would have left me to wait in the car. She thinks she is superior.”

“That’s not right, she—”

“I speak the truth, wife.” Abdul Amir tossed the weed away. “So, what did you tell her? How did you explain your connection with Rania?”

Huda rubbed her aching temples. The wine and the stress of the evening had made it more difficult than usual to dodge Ally’s questions, to bat her off with small talk and little jokes.

“I said that Rania and I belonged to the same tribe. That when we were young, her father was my family’s sheikh.”

Huda didn’t mention that on the way home, she’d been tempted to pull over to the side of the road and tell Ally everything about her and Rania. But a tiny voice had whispered, Be careful, what if the mukhabarat are listening in? Huda didn’t believe they made a habit of bugging the cars of little people, like her. But now that she was an informant, she couldn’t be sure. Huda didn’t know if she was being paranoid or prudent, so she’d kept quiet about her connection to Rania. The mukhabarat probably already knew all about their history, but there was no need to remind them.

Huda sighed. As much as she wanted to leave the past alone, these days it was always there, an itch at the back of her throat, a spasm that woke her just before dawn, gasping for breath. Westerners liked to proclaim that the truth would set them free. That was foolish. And dangerous. But lying to Ally was harder than Huda had foreseen.