Innocent in the Harem

by Michelle Willingham

  “Will I have the honor of meeting the sultan?” Laila asked.

  “He has already summoned you. I will take you to him now.”

  Though Laila could not even imagine speaking to a man who held half the world within his power, there might be a way to influence Suleiman to grant her wishes.

  Princess Mehrimah rose and a eunuch opened the door for both of them. “If you are intelligent, you will remain silent and be grateful for this opportunity.” Her expression grew guarded, “But do not refuse my father anything he asks. Khadin’s mother made the mistake of trading her turn within my father’s bed. Suleiman killed her for it.”

  The valide sultana walked gracefully to the door, her turquoise robes gliding behind her. Laila was left with no alternative but to follow, while she grew aware of just how dangerous her circumstances were.

  After walking through the women’s quarters, they reached the sultan’s Imperial Hall. The rich colors of blue, crimson and gold gleamed upon the walls. Intricate patterns were carved within the wood, and marble balustrades framed the throne.

  Laila’s heart quickened when she saw Khadin seated at his father’s feet. Her fears multiplied at the sight of a knotted cord resting upon a cushion. She recognized it as a cord used for strangling men.

  Khadin’s gaze locked upon her, as if wanting to assure himself that she was all right. She lowered her head in a faint nod, but the tension within the prince was unmistakable. Something was terribly wrong, and she had no idea what the sultan wanted with them.

  She longed to go to Khadin, to see for herself if he was unharmed. But she dared not make a single move without permission. When she was presented to the sultan, she knelt low and kissed the ground at his feet.

  Princess Mehrimah joined her father upon a cushioned divan.

  “So you are the Bedouin my son purchased from the slave market.” The sultan leaned forward, his gaze searching. Laila tried not to make eye contact, but it was disconcerting to be under such scrutiny. She didn’t know if she was meant to answer, but rather than speak, she simply inclined her head.

  “Look at me,” the sultan ordered. When she did, she forced herself to push back the fear. Suleiman the Magnificent was tall with a slender build. His saffron silk robes glittered with diamonds, and he wore a white turban. His beard had turned gray, and despite the wrinkles within his face and hands, she saw nothing but absolute power in his eyes.

  “It is rare for a new slave to cause such a stir,” Suleiman began. “I understand that my son allowed you outside the harem, bringing you to the stables.”

  She nodded, still uncertain of whether she was allowed to speak.

  “I heard, too, that you faced a group of rearing horses in the slave markets and calmed them with your voice. The marketplace believes that you are an enchantress.”

  Laila opened her mouth, her eyes asking him for permission to speak. He crossed his arms and gave a nod. “Explain yourself.”

  “Your Majesty, I grew up around horses, and I know them well. They understand that I mean them no harm, and I helped my father to train the Arabians until we sold them.”

  The sultan gave a nod, but she saw a note of curiosity in his eyes. He held out his hand, and the kizlar ağasi approached, handing over the parchment which contained the orders for her freedom. Laila forced herself to look down at the marble floor, her pulse trembling. What did he want from her now?

  “Any woman who joins the harem becomes my property. Khadin does not have the right to grant your freedom.”

  She didn’t dare lift her head up. What was he planning to do with her? The sultan had killed Khadin’s mother for not sharing his bed. Would he do the same to her? She didn’t know the sultan well, for her family had always traveled from place to place. He was rumored to be a fair-minded ruler, and ruthless toward his enemies.

  But how had his son become the enemy? She couldn’t understand it. When a long silence fell across the room, she risked a glance at Khadin. His blue eyes met hers, and in them, she saw an apology. He’d brought her here, intending to keep her safe. And now, he might never return to his beloved province.

  The sultan leaned forward, his knuckles tightening upon the arms of his chair. There was fury tight within his posture, and he kept his voice low as he remarked to his son, “Khadin, the people of Nerassia favor you. So much, that several of the visitors from that province have proclaimed their desire that you become the next sultan, instead of Selim, my heir.” In a quiet voice, he said, “I will not allow you to overthrow your brother.”

  He seized the knotted cord and wrapped it around his son’s throat.

  Khadin resisted the urge to fight against his father. The cord was loose around his throat, a threat that could descend at any moment. This was a test of obedience. Although he could easily toss the sultan to the ground, freeing himself, the guards would then behead him for the crime. His only hope was to remain perfectly still.

  Suleiman’s hands were shaking, but no one could see it except Khadin. In his heart, he didn’t believe his father wanted him to die. But the Ottoman Empire meant everything to Suleiman. He would cut off his right arm if it was for the good of the kingdom. Yet, there was indecision, an unwillingness within his father’s actions.

  “I cannot have war between my sons,” the sultan murmured, tightening the cord around Khadin’s throat. “Already Mustafa rose up against me, and I was forced to slay him with my own hand. I’ve no wish to do the same to you, but if your countrymen are threatening Selim’s accession, I shall have no choice.”

  One hand held the cord, while the other hand rested upon Khadin’s hair. Only Khadin felt the gentleness of his father’s hidden caress while the sultan’s other hand possessed the power to kill.

  “Tell me why I should let a traitor live.”

  “Because my desire is to reign over Nerassia, not the empire,” Khadin answered. He raised his head and looked into his father’s eyes. “I have never doubted your right to be leader, nor my brother’s birthright.” He brought his hands on top of his father’s, trying to force Suleiman to recognize the truth. “Exile me. May any man strike me dead if I return to this city.”

  The sultan stared into his eyes, as if he did not believe Khadin would hold true to his promise. “I should imprison you.” But he unwound the cord, letting it fall to the floor. Expelling a deep breath, he said, “Go, then. Take your belongings with you and return to Nerassia. But do not ever return here. You forfeit your life, if you do so.”

  Khadin bowed, and at that moment, Laila moved forward suddenly, pressing her forehead to the sultan’s feet. Khadin seized her, pulling her away from his father. “It is forbidden to touch His Majesty.”

  Allah, didn’t she know that such a gesture was reason enough for Suleiman to cut off her head? Within his embrace, her skin was frigid with fear. Laila gripped him, as if gathering strength.

  But to his relief, the sultan lifted his hand. “You have something to say?”

  “Something to ask,” Laila whispered. “Please. Let me go with Prince Khadin to Nerassia.”

  Suleiman expelled a rough laugh. “Why would you believe I would grant your wish? You are a concubine, and your place is here.”

  The sultan reached out for her hand, and Khadin had no choice but to release her. He watched as Laila was brought to sit at his father’s feet. She was fighting for her own freedom, and he didn’t know what he could do to help her.

  “Your life belongs to me,” the sultan said. “There is no reason why I would give up a woman with such a talent for enchanting animals.” He signaled for the chief eunuch to come forward. “Return her to the harem. And this night, bring her to my rooms.”

  Rage fired through Khadin’s veins, at the thought of Laila being subjected to his father. She belonged to him and no other man. But if he dared voice an argument, he had no doubt the sultan would cut her down at his feet.

  As he met Laila’s stricken face, he sent her a silent vow. I’m going to get you out. No other man wi
ll touch you. I swear it.

  The prince was gone. She’d seen it with her own eyes. From behind the lattice fence, Laila had watched as Khadin rode from the palace gates with his escorts. It was as if her heart had been torn out of her chest, taken away.

  She was glad that the sultan had spared his life, but never had she expected to feel such a bitter loss. Not only the loss of her freedom, but the loneliness of knowing she would never see Khadin again.

  Over and over, she berated herself for opening up to him. For believing that they could be more than simply lovers. What they’d shared was over now, and she was the prisoner of another man.

  A numbness settled over her, as she endured the regimen of preparation again. When the eunuch massaged the fragrant oil into her skin, she could think only of Khadin’s touch. Of his hands sliding over her, tempting and arousing her. Tears burned in her eyes, though there was nothing she could do.

  The hours slid away all too fast, until at last, it was time for her to be presented to the sultan. Clad in costly silk and jewels, she followed the chief eunuch. Her heart grew heavier with each step.

  I can’t do this, she thought desperately. Even the idea of enduring another man’s touch was impossible to bear. Was it not better to die? The sultan would never let her go, she was certain.

  Before they reached the sultan’s private rooms, she heard the sound of loud voices screaming. Outside, the heavy scent of smoke permeated the air. In the distance, she spied wooden outbuildings on fire. Slaves rushed through the courtyard, struggling with buckets of water to put out the flames.

  The chief eunuch began to run. “Come. We must ensure that the sultan is safe.”

  She stumbled, but the eunuch dragged her forward. Crowds of people struggled to evacuate, and the kapici were trying to maintain order while the heavy smoke seeped within the walls. Laila saw her chance to flee amid all the chaos, and she wrenched her arm away from the eunuch, running back outside.

  The heavy air was thick with smoke, dimming the visibility. Laila had nearly reached the garden when a voice called out her name. She jerked out of instinct and saw one of the kapici running toward her, a curved scimitar at his belt.

  Though she ran hard, he caught up to her, catching her about her waist. “Don’t fight me,” he warned. The low voice caught her attention, and she recognized Prince Khadin’s familiar blue eyes. Disguised as a royal guard, he’d masked his lower face.

  Laila threw herself into his arms, grateful that he’d returned to her. Without another argument, she followed him through the gardens and out into the Second Court where the fire blazed.

  They ran alongside one another toward the inner gate, and had nearly reached it, when they heard the sounds of horses approaching. The conflagration had spread to the stables, and the slaves were trying to evacuate the animals.

  Laila heard the cries of a stallion balking at the whip. Though Amir had improved in the days she’d spent with him, he was still too impulsive and could cause serious harm. Galloping furiously, he broke free of the slave, unable to contain his raw terror.

  Khadin took her hand, and they started to run toward the frightened animal. Amir was galloping toward a group of women who had gathered outside the harem, huddled together away from the men. Most were heavily veiled, wearing the ferace to disguise themselves.

  Laila called out to Amir, her legs burning as she ran. It was like watching a nightmare unfold, as the charging horse could not be stopped. Princess Mehrimah stood with the women, too terrified to move.

  Laila reached the princess’s side and shoved her out of the way, just as Amir reared up, his hooves high. Though the power of them could crush her, she held her ground.

  Don’t be afraid, she willed the animal. Hear my voice and obey.

  Despite the screams and the smoke, her attention was fully focused on the stallion. He dropped down when he saw her, and Laila removed her veil, holding it out so he could remember her scent. She spoke to him, and the familiar tones seemed to ease him. Her hands moved across his sensitive neck, stroking him until he was back under control.

  Khadin lifted her on top of the horse, while she continued touching the stallion’s mane and easing him. The horse no longer balked, for the compulsion to obey Laila was too strong. Slowly, amidst the fleeing palace inhabitants, they made their way back to the Imperial Gate.

  A row of kapici stood at the exit, their hands poised upon their weapons.

  Chapter Five

  “Reveal yourself,” came a commanding voice from behind them. The sultan stood with Princess Mehrimah at his side. Shaken, Mehrimah clung to her father.

  Khadin lowered the cloth that hid his face. He met his father’s gaze, and saw the pattern of emotions there. First anger, then regret, mingled with sadness.

  “You protected my daughter,” the sultan said to Laila, “at the risk to your own life. For that, I reward you with your freedom.”

  Laila bowed low upon the horse, a grateful smile breaking over her face. Khadin mounted behind her and turned to face his father. The gift of Laila’s freedom meant everything to him, and he bowed his head in silent respect.

  “She means that much to you?” Suleiman asked.

  Khadin held Laila within his arms, nodding to his father. “More than anything in my province.” He knew the risk in admitting the truth, but he could not let her go. His grip tightened around her waist, as though he could shield her from every danger.

  Laila had stood by him in his worst moments, even knowing that he might lose his own life. When they’d been lovers, she’d treated him like a man, not a prince. He only hoped that she would want to stay with him, now that she had the choice.

  For one last moment, he bowed to his father. It seemed that the years passed between them in the bittersweet instant. And when he raised his head once more, he saw forgiveness in his father’s eyes.

  The sultan lifted his hand in farewell, and the guards parted before them. Khadin kept his gaze upon his father, knowing it was the last time he would ever see Suleiman. Nonetheless, he was thankful for their lives.

  They rode for several miles in the darkness until they reached the inn where Khadin had left his escorts and belongings earlier. Though Amir was not the easiest horse to control, Laila’s touch had kept him calm throughout the ride. The stable master promised to rub the horse down and give him the best care.

  Once they reached the privacy of their own room, Khadin reached up and removed the outer robe he’d given Laila to cover herself. She pressed close to him, resting her face against his chest. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

  “I wasn’t about to leave you at my father’s mercy.” He took her face between his hands, resting his forehead upon hers. He couldn’t say what he was feeling right now, but it meant everything to have her in his arms.

  “You set the fire, didn’t you?”

  His expression turned guilty. “One of my servants did. It wasn’t meant to spread that far.” Before she could berate him for it, he added, “I left my father a chest of jewels as compensation. There wasn’t too much damage.” He cupped her face in his palms. “But I’d have burned the palace down if it meant getting you out.”

  She raised up on her toes, kissing him. Her mouth tasted of all the goodness within her, the bravery he admired.

  “You have your freedom now,” he whispered against the soft flesh of her throat. “You can do whatever you wish.”

  Her hands moved beneath his black kaftan, lifting it away until his chest was bared to her touch. “What I wanted most was already granted to me this night.” She fumbled with her clothing, removing the anteri and undergarments until she stood naked before him.

  His hands slid over her pale skin. “If you want me to return you to the Bedouin people, I will.”

  Laila reached back to unbraid her hair until it spilled past her shoulders. “No. I don’t belong with them anymore.”

  For so long, she’d dreamed only of returning to the black tents of her people. She�
�d ached for the loss of her family and dear ones. But now, she had Khadin. Somehow, he’d slipped past her guarded feelings, into her heart. And though he was a prince, she didn’t want to be parted from his side. Deep inside, she saw a good man who valued the needs of others, above his own. A man who understood her, as no one else did.

  She took his hand and started to lead him to the bed, needing to be with him. To show him her feelings and lose herself in his arms.

  “Wait.” Khadin walked over to open a small chest at the far side of the room. “I have something for you.” His eyes turned wicked, and he concealed something within his palm. Laila couldn’t see what it was at first, but when she saw the strand of pearls, she relaxed. He’d once apologized for not bringing her rubies or jewels.

  “You didn’t need to bring those,” she murmured, guiding him down for a kiss. “I am giving myself to you freely. Because I care for you.”

  In the light of the oil lamp, he removed the rest of his clothing. His skin was dusky, his blue eyes gleaming when he guided her onto the bed. With his hand, he rolled the strand of pearls across her nipple, arousing it. She smiled against his mouth, reaching to guide his hips onto hers. Right now, she needed to reaffirm the bond that was between them, to give herself to him.

  But Khadin replaced the pearls with his mouth, kissing her nipple as he brought the pearls lower still. Past her stomach, over her mons, to the intimate folds that were already wet for him.

  “I missed you,” she whispered, running her hands over his shoulders, as if to learn his body once again. Though she had her freedom now, it meant everything to share it with him.

  “I need you with me, Laila,” he said. “Stay.”

  Though his words were solemn, beneath them, she sensed that it was about more than being his concubine. He spoke as if she were his equal, as if she were necessary to his happiness. The words were not a command, but a question.