![]() ![]() Because he knew Shehab was capable of shouldering the burden. ![]() Farooq was only doing this because he had to. Shehab squeezed his eyes shut once, acknowledging, everything once again explained and sanctioned through the elemental bond that had bound them since Shehab was born. He blocked out all but his older brother, Farooq, standing right there in his own ceremonial robes, white on white, signifying the transfer of power, his golden eyes flashing his regret, asking understanding. So was every member of Judar’s Tribune of Elders, every member of the royal family, every noble house representative, every gaze focused on him. Was he really standing in the middle of the ceremonial hall of the citadel of Bayt el Hekmah-which had witnessed every major royal event for six hundred years from the joyous to the grim-draped in the ceremonial garb he’d never thought he’d ever wear, the black-on-black robes of succession? And Shehab ben Hareth ben Essam Ed-Deen Aal Masood could still barely believe it. ![]()
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