Silver Angel

by Johanna Lindsey

  In his rooms, Derek motioned his dresser forward to shed him of the raiments of office. The rest of the day was free now, and he had every intention of sleeping through part of it. But that was not to be. He was informed a servant from the harem was waiting to see him, and he finally noticed the girl cowering in a corner, fearful of actually being in the Dey's presence.

  Derek sighed in genuine irritation. "I had very little sleep last night. I haven't even eaten yet today. Can this not wait?"

  Hearing that, his own attendant dismissed the girl immediately, and she was more than happy to have the matter taken out of her hands, running in her haste to vacate the room. Derek frowned at that.

  "What was she afraid of?"

  His dresser shrugged. "She was probably the bearer of bad news. Your brother Mahmud was famous for imprisoning, and sometimes executing, anyone who brought him news he did not care to hear."

  Derek's frown darkened. "Go find out what that was about, then."

  The man returned in a moment, hesitant himself now to deliver the message. "She was sent by the eunuch Kadar, my lord. Your slave Shahar has been . . . poisoned."

  "God, no!" The color drained from Derek's face. "She can't be dead!"

  "She is not . . . yet, but—"

  He didn't wait to hear the rest, calling over his shoulder as he rushed out of the room, "Send my own physicians to the harem immediately!"

  "But, my lord, they cannot enter—"

  Derek ran the length of the corridor that the women used to reach the Dey's apartments. He stopped when he caught up with Kadar's messenger, and then only because he didn't want to waste time asking directions. He knew how to reach the Pink Court from childhood, but not where Shahar's rooms would be.

  The girl was terrified to be stopped by him, thinking the worst, and fell to her knees at his feet, crying loudly for mercy. Derek had to bend down and shake her just to get her attention.

  ' 'I mean you no harm, dammit!'' His tone was not reassuring. "Just take me to Shahar."

  "You mean to enter the—"

  He cut through her amazement with a sharp "Now!"

  She flinched and ran ahead of him. She was not as quick as he would have liked. And once they entered the harem there were the crowded pathways to be contended with, the shrieks of surprise, the crashes as trays of food slipped out of nervous hands, and every single soul dropping to the floor so quickly that a sprained wrist, two cracked ribs, and a dislocated jaw would later be reported.

  Shahar's apartment was easy to find after all. It was where all the favorites and wives were gathered outside, along with their servants and eunuchs, waiting to hear more news, good or bad. Again his sudden appearance caused a commotion, and he actually had to step over several prone bodies to reach the door. Then he stopped dead for a moment, hearing an anguished cry coming from inside.

  Oh, God, don't let her die. Please, not her.

  He stopped at the door to the bedchamber, where the curtains were tied back to allow for all the comings and goings. The room was filled with women, most of them the old ones who tended to the minor illnesses in the harem. Kadar was there, too, kneeling by the bed, his hands fisted in his hair as if he meant to pull it out in his despair. A young girl was on the other side of the bed, tears running down her cheeks as she applied cooling compresses to Shahar's forehead.

  Dread slowed his steps now as Derek approached the bed, seeing nothing but the pitiful form lying there. She lay on her side, curled in a tight ball, arms locked over her stomach. Blood beaded on her lower lip where she had bit it, scarlet against the ashen hue of her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, the lashes wet with tears. She was whimpering. . . .

  "How long has she been in pain like this?"

  Kadar's head snapped up as he recognized the quiet voice. There were tears in his eyes, too, but they weren't so blurry that he could mistake the stricken expression the Dey unknowingly revealed.

  "I thought you were not coming, my lord," Kadar said, a note of accusation in his voice that he didn't care if the Dey detected or not. "I sent word hours ago."

  "That idiot girl did not bother to find me. She waited for me to return to my apartments, which I only just . . . How the hell could this happen?"

  It was a stupid question, he knew, and so he didn't expect an answer. Poison was one of the commonest methods of doing away with rivals, and had been used for hundreds of years in hundreds of harems all across the Turkish empire. What he really wanted to know was why it had to happen to his Shahar.

  ''We are not certain of the poison used, but it would have been an easy matter for someone to tamper with her food in the kitchen, and all servants have access there."

  "Where is Haji Agha? He should have informed me of this himself."

  "In the city, my lord. This is the day he customarily visits the bazaars. He has not returned yet."

  "And what has been done for her?"

  "She was given a purge, but because we do not know which poison was used, or how much, it is impossible to tell—"

  "Has she gotten worse? Better?"

  Kadar hesitated a long moment before he was forced to admit, "Worse."

  Derek closed his eyes. For all the power at his disposal, he felt completely helpless.

  "My lord?" someone said behind him. "The physicians are at the gate, but the guards are refusing them entrance."

  "Dammit to hell! I summoned them. Were the guards not told that?"

  "No men have ever entered the harem before, my lord," was the tremulous reply. "The guards will not accept their word that they come by your order."

  Derek turned back to the eunuch. "Kadar, I give you leave to act in Haji Agha's stead. Blindfold them if necessary, but get them in here fast. And I want this room vacated, and those women outside gone, too," he added angrily. "This is not a deathbed to be hovering over."

  Derek shook his head when Adamma started to leave, too. She moved out of the way, however, when he sat on the edge of the bed, amazed to see the hand he stretched toward Shahar's cheek tremble.

  "Can you hear me, Shahar?"

  "Jamil?" She didn't open her eyes. Her voice was hoarse, her throat raw from repeated vomiting. She moaned, then tried to stifle the sound by clamping her lips together. When the cramps lessened, she asked, "Am I going to die?"

  "No, love, I won't allow it."

  She meant to smile, but it came out as a grimace. "Arrogant ... as always."

  He smoothed the silver locks back from her temple. Her hair was damp, her face covered by a fine sheen of cold sweat. With a finger he wined the blood from her lip.

  "Look at me, Shahar."

  "Chantelle," she whispered. "Call me Chantelle at least once before I—"

  "Dammit, woman, you are not going to die!"

  Her eyes slitted open to glower at him. "Don't shout at me!"

  "Then fight back. Resist it. Put your infernal stubbornness to good use."

  "What the bloody hell do you think I'm doing, damn you!"

  Adamma was appalled, listening to them, that the Dey would torment a dying woman like this. And yet color had returned to Shahar's cheeks, and her voice was strong again. His provoking her had done what all their tender care had not.

  Rahine, who had been in the back of the room when the Dey entered and hadn't left with the others, was disturbed as well, but for a different reason. She had never seen Jamil behave like this. She knew he fancied this girl, but to show his feelings for anyone and everyone to see was not his way. Even when Sheelah had had difficulty with her second labor, he had kept his concern hidden.

  He was different. Was it Shahar's doing, or simply the strain from all these months of danger? Whatever it was, she shouldn't have gone out of her way to avoid him since his displeasure with her over Jamila's purchase. It seemed she didn't know her own son anymore.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Derek finally noticed her when he turned at the physicians' arrival, but he didn't recognize her. It was because she was still there after h
e had ordered everyone out that made him wonder who she was to defy him. And then he met her eyes, as emerald green as his own, and he knew. And the knowledge nearly undid him.

  Christ, he had been racking his brain for a way to see her without her being aware of it, but it was easy to spy on him, not so easy on the women in the harem. He had wanted to just summon her to his presence, but Omar had talked him out of it, because if anyone could see through his impersonation, it would be his mother, and they had agreed, Jamil included, that no one, not even Rahine, was to know about the switch. And that meant Derek couldn't talk to Rahine, at least not until it was over and Jamil was safe.

  But here she was, only a few feet away, changed surely, older, reserved now, not the impetuous young woman he remembered, but, God, still beautiful, still regal in her bearing, still able to see into the soul with those eyes. They were probing his now, wondering no doubt why he was staring at her like this. What had Jamil said about her? Not much, because Derek wasn't supposed to run into her.

  He should have turned away and just ignored her. He couldn't do it. He walked up to her, aching to embrace her, yet knowing full well it wasn't something Jamil would do. But, dear Lord, she was just what he needed at the moment, the one person from whom he could accept comfort. If she told him Shahar would be all right, he would believe her. She was his mother. He felt like crying. . . .

  "Are you certain you want these men to see Shahar?"

  Derek pulled himself together to see that the two doctors were just standing there, their blindfolds still intact. The traditions of the harem suddenly disgusted him, that no man, not even a desperately needed physician, could look on another man's women.

  "I don't give a damn who sees her, as long as they cure her."

  "They understand, Jamil," Rahine said gently. "But it would be wise if you came into the other room. They are too nervous to do anything with you glowering at them."

  He nodded and followed her only because he knew she was right. And then, too, he wanted some answers, and not where Shahar could hear them.

  "You know these women better even than I. Who would want to kill her?"

  Rahine hesitantly joined him by the window that faced the marble court. The area was empty now, the sun turning the spray in the fountain to diamond drops. He hadn't asked anything of her in so long. She was gladdened that he did now, but at the same time wretched because she couldn't help him. And he was obviously upset by this incident, enough to make him behave out of character.

  "Your women are not as vicious in their jealousy is they could be, Jamil. I honestly don't know. Noura’s the most spiteful, but then you know that. If she were going to have anyone poisoned, it would be Sheelah. It is the position of first kadine that she covets, not your bed."

  "Who else?"

  "Mara lost her position when Shahar moved to the Pink Court, but I don't think she would kill to get it back. She knows she serves a special purpose that no one else can fill."

  "Who else?" he repeated.

  "Have you considered your own enemies?"

  He glanced sideways at her, but only for a moment. "I presume you mean my main enemy?"

  "Yes. It is no secret outside the palace that you are very well pleased with your new concubine. It is said you are content to remain inside the palace walls now that you have this new slave to entertain you. So it is not unreasonable to suppose that you might be distressed should anything happen to her, even careless enough to attend the funeral."

  "All right," he said curtly. "You have made your point."

  "Haji Agha will, of course, have the harem searched. If we can find the poison—" She paused, ending with the obvious. "It is doubtful anyone would be so stupid as to not get rid of it."

  After a short silence, he said, "I want her moved to my apartments as soon as she is able."

  Rahine was so surprised by this, she thoughtlessly touched his arm to draw his eyes to her. "If it is a matter of protection, we can do that better here, now that we know it is needed. What can you be thinking of, Jamil? There are so many other variables to be considered outside the harem; in particular, the number of times the assassins have managed to get as far as your apartments. Was Shahar not in danger just last night?"

  He conceded, placing his hand over hers. "I know. I just cannot seem to think clearly where she is concerned. Can you promise me this will not happen again?"

  Rahine felt an unexpected moisture gathering in her eyes. Twice now he was asking for her help, and this time trusting her to protect his most prized possession. She couldn't remember the last time he had wanted anything of her. And he hadn't touched her, actually touched her, since she had sent Kasim away.

  "Jamil ..." No, she couldn't bring herself to mention his brother. It had always thrown him into a rage whenever she tried to broach the subject. He was already too distraught over Shahar. "Yes, I can promise you there will be no more poisoned food. I will make my own cook and food tasters available for her henceforth. My people have been with me more than twenty years. There are none more loyal."

  He nodded, relieved on that score at least. It had been irrational for him to think of moving her out of the harem anyway. He had already made too many unusual precedents for her. Jamil wouldn't return for weeks yet. He had to stop doing things that Jamil wouldn't do, or risk giving himself away. But damn, he wanted to protect her himself, not leave it in the hands of others.

  He glanced back out of the window. There was nothing more to say to Rahine. He had a thousand questions, but none could be asked now. Yet he was loath to end this rare moment with her.

  "Tell me she isn't going to die, Mother."

  "Oh, God!"

  He caught her arm when she swayed back. "What is it?"

  "Nothing, nothing," she assured him. But she turned aside. She wouldn't look at him again. "You must not fear for her, Jamil. You said yourself she is stubborn. And she brought up everything she had eaten, so whatever poison remains is minimal."

  "But she is in pain."

  "As likely from the purge as from the poison. Your physicians will give her something to ease it. She is probably better already. Go and see for yourself."

  He didn't have much choice, since she quickly left him then. But he knew he had upset her. He just didn't know it was because he had called her Mother, something Jamil hadn't done for nineteen years.

  Chapter Forty

  "Are you feeling better now?"

  Chantelle stopped Adamma from fussing with her pillows and motioned her to leave. Rahine sat on the other side of the bed. It was she who had made the inquiry.

  "I'd hate to tell you what I really feel like, madame."

  Rahine smiled at the surly tone. "Much better, I'd say."

  Chantelle started to glower but didn't want to waste the effort. She felt like her insides had been wrung out to dry. There was a horrible taste in her mouth, every bone seemed to ache, and she was as weak as a kitten. But this was nothing compared with how she had felt earlier. At least Rahine was speaking English for a change, so she didn't have to tax herself by translating.

  "Did you come here to pay your last respects?"

  Rahine laughed outright. "Don't be absurd, child. You'll be as good as new in a few days."

  Chantelle closed her eyes against such good humor. No one should be cheerful while she felt so miserable, at least not in her presence.

  "Am I to take it you're glad I'm still among the living?"

  "Very glad, Shahar. I don't know what it is about you, but you have completely changed Jamil, and for that I thank you. It's almost as if I have my son back."

  "I wasn't aware you had lost him."

  "That's a . . . long story, and nothing for you to be concerned with."

  That evasion should have aroused Chantelle's curiosity, but she had other things on her mind. "Did I dream it, or was Jamil here?"

  "He was here most of the afternoon."

  "But I thought he never enters the harem."

  "You will allow the circum
stances are unusual, my dear. It's the first time one of his women has ever been poisoned."

  So much for thinking he might care for her more than he did for any of his other women. "How did I get to be so lucky?"

  "It's doubtful we will ever know who wished you harm, but you needn't fear it will happen again. Your food will come from my own kitchen from now on, and Haji Agha has assigned you two of his own bodyguards. You will never be left entirely alone."

  "Wonderful," Chantelle said bitterly. "More the prisoner than ever."

  "You mustn't look at it that way."