Morgan’s stomach rumbled on cue. She loved the soft cheese, and being looked after in this way was something new. Feeding someone was an important sign of hospitality in the Middle East. Khal was a true son of these parts, but she had become more English now, forgetting the ways of her homeland.
They sat in the shade, and Morgan leaned back against the stone to look up at the surrounding rock walls. There were staircases cut into the sheer face, many leading nowhere, as if the masons had climbed toward the gods and fallen to their deaths before they could finish their journey.
