FORTY-THREE
The moment the men vanished, Maram tore the veil from Anahita's head. "Where did he hurt you?" she demanded, examining Anahita's face.
Anahita shook her head. "He didn't. Philemon has been everything I ever dreamed of until he threatened you."
"That's not Sheikh Basit?" Maram asked.
"No. Basit was old, fat, boring, and a bastard. He's also dead and buried. Philemon even tried to take the blame. Basit's people believed him." Because no one believed a woman was capable of defending herself, or killing a dangerous man. Least of all the men who'd died at her hands.
"So who is he, and where did you find him?" Maram asked.
The Prince of Tasnim, as a frog perched atop her hawk's head, soaring and screaming above an oasis. Anahita shook her head. "You won't believe me."
Maram
