Maryam stepped into the Sultan’s palace and felt the heat wrap around her like a lover’s hands. The air was thick with incense and desert sand. Golden lanterns flickered along marble halls that seemed to go on forever. She was only twenty-six, but the British-Egyptian translator had been chosen for her sharp mind and perfect Arabic. Still, nothing prepared her for this place.
She followed the silent servant through the royal library, her simple silk dress brushing her curves with every step. Tall shelves of ancient scrolls and leather-bound books surrounded her. The scent of old paper and myrrh made her head spin. She reached for a heavy scroll to examine it closer, but her fingers slipped. The priceless parchment tumbled to the floor with a soft thud.
Two guards appeared instantly, thei
