The Abyssinian Proof by Jenny White

gave them instructions to carry Avi inside. Kamil disliked his self-centered brother-inlaw, a distant cousin and minor member of the royal family whose exact function in the palace bureaucracy was unclear.
    Feride greeted him in the reception hall, a massive room decorated in the European style. Kamil thought the ropes of gilded plaster and oil paintings of fruit and dead pheasants an abomination of taste. He was certain it was Huseyin who had insisted on this décor. In contrast to the room, Feride had the calm demeanor and classical lines of a Roman marble. Her face was a long, pale oval, with a straight nose and thin lips that gave her an air of repose. As always, she was fashionably but simply dressed. A light silk scarf edged in tiny pearls fluttered from her head. He never understood why she had agreed to marry Huseyin against his advice when she had had her choice of men of good family seeking her hand.
    Feride smiled happily and held out her hands to Kamil. “My dear brother, what a wonderful surprise.”
    He kissed Feride’s cheeks. “You’re looking well, Ferosh,” he lied, using the affectionate form of her name. The strain of her marriage and their father’s suicide had begun to show. Two deep lines had settled permanently above her nose, the beginnings of sorrow on her otherwise flawless face. He reached up and gently brushed away a strand of hair, then kissed her forehead. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile that made her look young again.
    “You’ll stay for lunch, won’t you?” she pleaded.
    The events of that morning were still fresh in his mind and he did not want to spend precious time in idle conversation, but not wishing to disappoint Feride, he acquiesced. He also wanted to ask Huseyin about Hamdi Bey.
    He heard a distant patter of feet and squatted, waiting for his seven-year-old twin nieces to appear. They flew into the room, matching flurries of white and blue, and threw themselves into his arms. He kissed their red hair and breathed in the scent of soap and innocence. Feride pried them away and sent them to tell the cook to add a place at the table.
    “Ferosh,” Kamil said, “I’ve brought you a gift, another child. A boy, this time.”
    Feride looked shocked, then laughed. “You’re always teasing me. I can’t wait for the day when you really will be married and bring your children to see me. When will that be, my wild-blooded brother?”
    “I’m serious. But he’s not mine.”
    “Whose then?”
    “An orphan.” He told her about Avi. He had considered bringing the boy to his house, but thought Avi might benefit from staying in a family with other children.
    “The poor child,” she exclaimed. “Of course he can stay here.”
    She swung her arms around wildly. “There’s enough room here for an entire city of boys.”
    Feride gestured to a servant waiting at a discreet distance and consulted with her. The woman led them to the servants’ quarters. There, they found Avi on a mattress under a quilt with a matronly servant squatting beside him, spooning broth into his mouth from a bowl. When Avi saw Kamil, he relaxed.
    “This is Feride Hanoum, my sister.”
    His nieces peered around his legs. “And these are her daughters, Alev and Yasemin.”
    The girls giggled.
    “You’re welcome in my house,” Feride said, touching Avi’s bandage and lifting the quilt. She turned to the woman. “Bathe him and get him some clothes. And fetch the surgeon. This bandage needs to be changed.”
    “You’ll be well treated here, Avi,” Kamil said softly. “When you’re feeling better, I’ll expect you back at your post.”
    Feride looked at her brother in surprise.
    Avi struggled to keep his eyes open, smiled, then fell asleep. The twins crept close and kept watch over him.
     
    “Y OU’RE FULL OF surprises today, dear brother,” Feride said when they were in the corridor. “I heard the way you spoke to that boy. You care about him, don’t you?”
    “I suppose so.”
    She