“After I did my Fajr prayer—” “I’m sorry, what?” A wrinkle appears between Emir’s eyebrows. He says, exasperated, “The Fajr, the dawn prayer we say as Muslims. You don’t remember?” He waits. Sebastian nods slowly because he does, vaguely. He’s only seen Emir’s parents praying on those mornings when he sneaked over to wake Emir. But they were so young, and Sebastian was clueless about the religious terms used by the Shahs.
