“Now, when you meet the sheikh—”

  “I know. Don’t jump all over him. Let him come to me.”

  “Smart boy.” Willow broke out in goose bumps as they passed under the grand arch. It was cool in the palace and dark after the sunshine. She squinted into the gloom and got the sense of a large space, huge and high-ceilinged, filled with murmuring shapes. Applause rose without warning, and Zak gave a squeak.

  “Welcome,” said Hadi. He stepped forward, smiling, and took Willow’s arm. “My family can’t wait to meet you. Oh, watch your step.”

  Willow stumbled and caught herself. Her eyes were adjusting, but with so much to look at, she’d missed the shallow step. Hadi’s family had assembled in the great room, his mother and father and two younger sisters. She knew them by sight from her research on Hadi, but here in their presence, Willow felt small. They’d dressed for the occasion, and Willow had too, in her best summer dress. But Fisa’s diamonds were dazzling, thirty carats at her throat and ten more at her wrists. Caasi stood like a Vogue cover, tall and sleek in silk.

  “Mom?” Zak squeezed her hand again. “Where’s Lale? Can I—”

  “My son Zak,” Hadi said. “And his guardian, Willow Mandrake.”

  Willow’s neck went hot. His guardian? That made her sound temporary, on paper only. She was Zak’s mother. His—

  “Well, aren’t you handsome?” Karima stooped to greet Zak. “I’m your Aunt Karima. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine,” said Zak, just as Willow had taught him. He stuck out his hand, but she bent and kissed his cheeks. Caasi did the same, and then Hadi’s parents. Willow edged close to Hadi and cleared her throat for his attention.

  “Excuse me. May I talk to you?”

  “Of course. What is it?” Hadi ushered her into an alcove, out of the bustle. “I know it’s all a bit much, but tradition dictates you get a proper welcome.”

  “Your traditions are lovely,” Willow said. “But I’m Zak’s mother, not his guardian. I need to know you understand that.”

  Hadi’s brows drew together like a gathering storm. “You’re his aunt,” he said. “He does know that, right?”

  “Of course he does.” Willow fought not to snap at him, anger coiling in her gut. “But I need you to listen. I wake Zak every morning. I tuck him in every night. He calls me Mom, not Aunt Willow, and he is my son. If you can’t respect that—”

  “It’s not a matter of respect. Except, perhaps, for his real mother. Motherhood, in Ad Diwasul—”

  “I’m his real mother.”

  Hadi scowled. “I’m not saying you don’t love him or that you’re not there for him. But we honor our ancestors. We keep them in our hearts, even after they’re—”

  “Hadi.” Willow caught his arm, all the blood draining from her face. “Where’s Zak? I don’t see him. He was just there with your sisters.” She turned this way and that, panic fluttering in her chest. Hadi reached out and steadied her with a hand on her arm.

  “He can’t have gone far,” he said, and he beckoned to Caasi. “Did you see where Zak went?”

  “Lale came and got him. They ran off outside.”

  “Outside? Where the press is?” Willow felt sick.

  “No, they went to the garden. I hope that’s all right.” Fisa pointed west, down a long, sunlit hall. “Just through the day room. It’s perfectly safe.” Her smile was reassuring, but Willow’s pulse drummed in her ears. She felt faint, off-balance. She was Zak’s mother. She couldn’t lose him. Couldn’t be without him, not even for a moment.

  “Come with me.” Hadi grasped her hand, his grip cool and firm. He set out at a brisk walk, then broke into a jog. Willow ran, panting, the breath hot in her lungs.

  “It’s okay,” said Hadi. “See, through the French doors. He’s fine, playing with Lale.”

  Willow stopped in her tracks. Sure enough, there was Zak, pushing Lale on a wooden swing. She was laughing, and so was he. And they did have the same eyebrows, the same chin, the same smile. She’d noticed it before, of course, but it seemed more obvious now for some reason. Lale spotted her and waved, and Zak did the same.

  “You’re shaking,” Hadi said.

  “I know. I thought...” Willow swallowed thickly, unsure what she’d thought. That Hadi would snatch Zak? Toss her out on the street? That Zak would run down some dark hall and just disappear? She sucked in a ragged breath. “Remember in my classroom, you said Lale’s your world? Well, Zak’s my everything, the only—”

  Willow shut her mouth on her sorrow—the only child I’ll ever have. Hadi quirked a brow.

  “Should we go out and join them? Find out what’s so funny?”

  Willow just nodded, and Hadi led her outside. He was still holding her hand, his grip firm and sure. She should let go, she knew, now that her panic was over. But the garden was beautiful, fragrant with roses. It reminded her of a postcard she’d once gotten from Fern—a family in a meadow, the kids playing in the grass. Their parents had been smiling, holding hands just like this. A wave of longing swept over her, so powerful she reeled. A real home, a loving family—it had always seemed like a pipe dream, some Hollywood fantasy. But here in the sun, with Hadi’s hand warm in hers, she could almost picture—

  Hadi leaned in with a wink, so close his breath tickled her ear. “See? I have high walls. No danger here.”

  As if on cue, a huge bug buzzed by, the size of Willow’s hand. She batted at it, missed, and Hadi caught it instead. He dashed it to the ground and crushed it under his heel.

  “Drones! Unbelievable.” He snapped his fingers, and a nearby guard grabbed his walkie. “That almost never happens.”

  Willow fanned herself, lightheaded. “Do you think it took our picture?”

  “Oh, I know it did.” Hadi fished out his phone. “Wait for it—wait for it—”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Hadi’s phone buzzed. He held it up so she could see, and Willow’s stomach did a slow roll. There she was, beaming dazedly, her head on Hadi’s shoulder. There he was, winking roguishly, his fingers twined with hers. Lale was looking up at them, all innocent joy. Zak had his arm around her, and—

  “Our first family portrait, immortalized by—” Hadi glanced at his phone. “JamilAWESOME66.”

  “Awesome,” muttered Willow. She thought she might faint. Family portrait—Hadi wasn’t wrong. She felt it in her marrow, a deep, blooming certainty. Hadi’s smile and Zak’s eyes. His proud, firm stance, so like his father’s. She’d come looking for family, and she’d found it. This was it, not the dream from the postcard, but the family she had.

  No turning back now, she thought, and a strange shiver ran through her, fear and excitement and heartache all in one.

  4

  “I love my room,” Zak said. “I love my bed.” He flung himself down on it and bounced straight back up. “Lale says there’s horses. Can we go for a ride?”

  “Maybe. If you stop jumping on the bed.” Willow sat down next to him and tousled his hair. “So, first time ever waking up in a palace. How do you like it here, apart from your room?”

  Zak chewed his lip, thoughtful. “It’s big,” he said. “And I was thinking...”

  “What?”

  “If I get a spider on my ceiling, how do I get it down?” He squinted at the ceiling, nearly twenty feet up. “You couldn’t just vacuum it. You’d need a ladder, or two ladders, or a crow. Crows eat spiders.”

  Willow burst out laughing. “Please don’t let in a crow.”

  “Who’s letting in crows?” Hadi stuck his head in and winked at Zak. “My mother keeps parrots, but I’d steer clear of those. They take the concept of finger food far too literally.”

  Zak giggled. “They bite?”

  “And how.” Hadi smiled at Willow. “Pardon my barging in. Your door was open, so I thought I’d take a chance.”

  “Oh, no. Be our guest.” She stood up too quickly and blinked away stars. “Zak was just wondering how you clean the ceilings in here. Well, not you personally, but...”

  “The ceilings?” Hadi scratched his chin. “Well, for rooms like these, we have dusters on very long poles.” He stretched his arms out to demonstrate. “For the really high ceilings, the grand halls and ballrooms, it’s a whole to-do. There’s scaffolding, forklifts—we do that once a year.”

  “Cool.” Zak’s tone was almost reverent. “Can I ride the forklift? Go up in the dome?”

  Hadi laughed. “I suppose that might be arranged. But I have something else for you today. Some good news, and a present.”

  Zak’s expression turned hopeful. “A present? For me?”

  “Yes. But first, the news.” Hadi smiled first at Willow, then back at Zak. His eyes were on fire, she saw, alight with a fierce pride that made her heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear. “Remember that test we took? When they did the cheek swab?”

  Zak nodded. “Our DNA.”

  Willow stopped breathing. Surely, he wasn’t saying— They couldn’t know so soon.

  “That’s right,” said Hadi. “I have our results, and Zak, I’m your father.”

  Willow’s heart leaped and plunged. Relief flooded through her, then joy, disbelief, a feast of emotion all served up at once. She’d known it, of course she had, but hearing it aloud set her head in a whirl.

  “Zak? You okay?” Hadi crouched down beside him and held out his hand. “I can give you a minute to let it sink in.”

  “No. No, don’t go.” Zak grabbed his hand. “I was just wondering…can I hug you? Is that allowed?”

  Hadi opened his arms, and Zak half-tackled him. Hadi let out a soft whoof that gave way to laughter. He held Zak and rocked him, and Willow’s vision swam with tears. All her doubts, all her fears, all the nights she’d lain awake wrestling with one burning question—What would Fern want?—lost their sharp edges, watching Hadi hug Zak.

  “He’ll love him,” she whispered, and she knew it was true.

  “Now, I heard from Lale that you like giraffes.” Hadi sat back, smiling. “I couldn’t get you a real one, but I thought you might like this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little bronze one, exquisitely detailed down to its tiny horns. “My great-grandfather found this on a trading trip to Constantine, which is in Algeria. It’s something of an heirloom, so I thought how better to welcome you to the family?”

  “I can have this?” Zak reached for the giraffe and took it in both hands. “It looks so real. Like I could rub it, and it might come alive.” He glanced up at Willow, and his eyes went round. “Sorry—I mean, thanks. Thank you, sir. Dad? Father?”

  “Any of the above will do. And you’re very welcome.” Hadi got to his feet. “Now, I was thinking—”

  “Here you all are.” Fisa appeared in the doorway, radiant in yellow silk. She’d ditched her frosting of diamonds, but Willow still felt dowdy, a candle next to the sun. She beamed at Zak, then at Willow. “I trust Hadi’s delivered the good news?”

  “He has,” Willow said. She smiled, a little nervously. Fisa seemed friendly enough, but so did a lot of people, right till they cut your legs out from under you. Had she been outside this whole time? Listening at the door?

  “Then, let me be the second to welcome you to the family.” She looked about, bright-eyed, taking in Zak’s personal touches, his books and his microscope, his Goliath beetle in its case. “You know,” she said, “we’ve had the strangest bugs in the rose garden, these dreadful little red things. I could show you later, if that sounds like fun.”

  “Really?” Zak jumped up, excited. “They’re probably Khomeini beetles. Those things love roses.”

  “If it’s all right with you, of course.” Fisa turned to Willow. “I confess, I’m a doting grandma. I’ll spoil him rotten if you let me. But don’t let me step on your toes.”

  “I—I won’t.” Willow sat down, head spinning.

  “I thought we might have a picnic, you and me and the kids. This afternoon, if you’re free.”

  “Not this afternoon.” Hadi shot Fisa a warning look. “Malik’s agreed to meet with us regarding Zak’s education.”

  “His education?” Willow blinked slowly, caught in a sort of mental whiplash. Less than an hour ago, she’d been sharing breakfast with Zak. She’d been set for a tranquil day exploring the palace, not...whatever this was. “Zak’s advanced for his age,” she said. “He reads well above his grade level, and—”

  “Not that kind of education.” Hadi winked at Zak. “Tell me, do you like parties?”

  Zak’s eyes lit up. “Like birthday parties?”

  “Exactly like that.” Hadi’s smile broadened. “We have a special party here, in a child’s seventh year—a coming-of-age ceremony, with tea and cakes and dancing. We invite all your friends, and your family as well, and we welcome you into society. Does that sound like fun?”

  Zak frowned. “Would Lale come?”

  “You’re both the same age, so you’ll be honored together.”

  “Then, yeah. That sounds fun.”

  “Wait, this is about a party?” Willow shook her head, confused. “I’m not sure I understand—”

  “He’ll have traditional dances to learn, and the tea ceremony and the meaning behind it.” Hadi’s expression turned pained. “It’ll be rather a crash course, but a bright boy like Zak will catch on right away.” He stood up and beckoned Zak to follow. “Why don’t we go see Malik? We’ll see what Zak knows already and take it from there.”

  Willow got to her feet. If she refused Hadi—if she called Zak to her and said she’d rather do the picnic—would he take it gracefully? Or would she be overruled?

  “Mom? Can we go?”

  Willow looked down at Zak. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, bubbling over with excitement. This wasn’t the hill to die on, not with Zak firmly on board.

  “Okay,” she said, and she conjured her brightest grin. “Let’s go learn about this party.”

  “We’ll start with history,” Malik said. “Something nice and simple to see where we stand.” He closed the book he’d been reading from and drew himself up. Zak flinched away, then giggled uncomfortably. Willow leaned close to Hadi and whispered in his ear.

  “Does he have to glare like that?”

  “That’s just his face.” Hadi’s hand brushed hers, sending a shiver down her spine—a delectable little shiver she did her best to ignore. She’d always known Hadi was handsome, but he had a presence in person that no camera could capture—an aura of confidence that made her weak in the knees. It made her want to touch him, to assure herself he was real. She cleared her throat instead and focused on Malik.

  “It’s just, Zak seems scared of him.”

  “He’ll get used to him,” Hadi said. “He seems stern, I know, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Now, what can you tell me about the land of your ancestors?” Malik glanced at his book. “How about we start with the provinces of Ad Diwasul? How many are there, and what’s each one known for?”

  “Uh...” Zak rubbed his cheek, a quick, nervous gesture. “Well, there’s three, I think. Maybe four? There’s Tanodayea, where Dad’s in charge. That’s where we are right now. Then there’s Khorranab to the north, and to the west there’s... Manitoba?”

  Malik’s expression didn’t change. “Manitoba’s in Canada,” he said. “Want to try that again?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just, I forgot.”

  “That’s all right,” Malik said. “The point of this exercise is to see what you know, not judge you on what you don’t. So history isn’t your forte. What do you know of astrology?”

  “Astrology?” Willow turned to Hadi, but he’d edged away from her, distracted by his phone.

  “It’s tradition,” Fisa said, who’d sat down beside her. “You’ve seen the bazaar, right? The fortune tellers? The star charts?”

  “I thought those were mostly for tourists.” Willow tried a cautious smile. She didn’t want to offend Hadi’s mother, but astrology? Really? “So, you’re saying you believe—”

  “That the stars rule our lives?” Fisa laughed softly. “You didn’t grow up here, so it’s hard to explain. We do believe, in a sense—but we believe in tradition. In doing what’s worked for us, whether it makes sense or not.”

  “Like how I always check Zak’s closet when I put him to bed,” said Willow. “Not that I think anyone’s in there. It just makes me feel safe.”

  “Precisely.” Fisa leaned back, smiling, and Willow turned back to the lesson. Malik had unrolled a star chart, and was tapping on the constellations with a long, knobby stick.

  “Try this one. It’s simpler.” He tapped on Orion.

  “I don’t know.” Zak gave a quiet sniff and scrubbed at his face. “The Big Dipper?”

  “We found that already. This one’s the Hunter. Can you tell me his name?”

  Zak picked at his ear. “I don’t know,” he said at last, in a voice choked with tears. “Robin Hood?”

  “Okay, break time.” Willow hurried to Zak’s side. She crouched down in front of him, shielding him from Malik. “It’s okay. You did great. Most kids your age can’t name a single constellation.”

  “The ones here can.” Zak gave a big sniff and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I—did I fail?”

  “Of course not. Oh, honey.” Willow pulled Zak close. She mussed up his hair, just like she did when he got a fever or skinned his knee. Anger rose in her belly, but she swallowed it down. Zak was upset, and he needed his mom. “You know when we move and everything’s new? Like the midnight sun in Sweden, or beans for breakfast in London?”

  “Uh-huh...” Zak rubbed his face on her shoulder.

  “Well, this is like that. It’s a brand-new adventure, a lot you don’t know. But you’ll learn. You’ll see.”

  “And there’ll be sweets along the way.” Fisa held up a bright packet. “Chocolate, how’s that?”

  “I like chocolate.” Zak looked up, red-eyed. He glanced at Willow. “Can I?”