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“every day of
my life is clouded by what happened during that time. Even when I
am most happy with Asad, a sliver of pain always works its way into
my consciousness.” She paused briefly. “If I could save Munira from
such a fate, I would do it. But only God can save Munira, Sultana.
Only God.”
    “ God gave women cunning
minds in order to scheme,” I argued. “How else can we defeat the
evil nature of men?”
    Sara placed a light hand on
my shoulder. “You may have the years of a woman on you, my sister,
but in many ways, you are still a child.”
    I turned away, so
disappointed and angry that I could not speak.
    “ Come, Sultana. Try to
think clearly for one moment, and you will realize that anything
you might do to conceal Munira will only serve to make our brother,
and Hadi, even more determined. If you hide Munira, they will find
her. Then, Hadi will marry her anyway, but by that time his heart
will be filled with anger and bitterness. Her life will only be
worsened by your efforts.”
    Like the caged bird that
finally comes to acceptance of its captivity, the lightness of hope
left my body. I collapsed on the sofa and wrapped my arms around my
body. Sara spoke the truth, so, for now, I put aside all thoughts
of extricating my niece. I knew that excluding a miracle, Munira
would be Hadi’s future wife. And there was nothing any of us could
do about it.
    After Sara departed for her
own home, I returned to my bed and spent the rest of the day
lethargic with hopelessness.
    Nine days passed as
fleetingly as mere moments. The evening of Munira’s wedding
arrived, all too soon.
    Although Ali possessed no
love for his eldest daughter, his position as a high-ranking Prince
ensured that Munira’s wedding would be a grandiose occasion,
indeed. The celebration and wedding were to take place at the King
Faisal Hall, a large building in Riyadh where many Saudi royal
weddings have been staged.
    On the night of the
wedding, a stream of limousines wove their way to the entrance of
the hall, discharging flocks of veiled women. Our driver stopped at
the wide steps that led to the entrance of the building. Two
doormen rushed to open the doors of our automobile, and my
daughters and I stepped out into a night filled with music. I could
feel the beat of Arabic dancing music drifting through the hall as
we moved toward the stairs.
    Although we were all
veiled, I knew that most of the other guests were members of the
royal family, or women whose families had high connections with our
family.
    Other than the groom, his
father or brother, the father of the bride, and possibly a Mutawwa,
or religious man, we never see men at this kind of occasion. Men
and women in my country celebrate weddings at separate locations.
Even as we women were gathering at the King Faisal Hall, our men
were congregating at Ali’s Riyadh palace.
    As my daughters and I
walked across the threshold into the large hall, a swarm of female
servants dressed exactly alike in red velvet gowns and caps waited
to relieve us of our cloaks and veils. The three of us were
elaborately dressed in expensive designer gowns that we had
purchased the year before while vacationing in Paris. I wore a
black evening dress covered in red Italian lace.
    A few days earlier, in an
attempt to distract me from Munira’s plight, Kareem had sent a
trusted Lebanese employee on one of our private planes to Paris for
the sole purpose of acquiring a special gift for me. The ten-tiered
diamond choker was now fastened securely around my neck.
    Maha was arrayed in a
lovely burgundy silk dress that draped loosely off her broad
shoulders. A diamond and pearl necklace shaped in the form of
simple teardrops covered the smooth flesh of her neckline. While
selecting her jewelry, Maha had whispered that she thought it
appropriate that even her jewels appeared to weep for her dear
cousin.
    Amani was fitted out in a
dark blue gown with a matching jacket. In keeping with her strict
religious beliefs, she