I collapsed onto my bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin. Grabbing a pillow, I pressed it against my face and let out a muffled scream, the kind I often indulged in when frustration boiled over. The soft texture calmed me, even as my pulse raced.
Rolling onto my side, I noticed a plate of baklava and a steaming pot of mint tea waiting on the nightstand. My lips curved into a smile. The servants here are so amazing, I thought, sitting up to pour myself a cup. The sweetness of the flaky, honey-soaked pastry melted across my tongue, soothing my foul mood in a way only baklava could.
A faint knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Has Hurricane Zahra calmed down yet? May I come in?” Amir’s voice carried a teasing warmth through the door.
It was hard to stay angry with dessert in hand. “Come i
