CONQUEROR| MAGNIFICENT CENTURY|

CHAPTER 55

The first light of dawn crept through the intricately designed curtains, casting a warm glow across the opulent chamber. Neslihan Sultan stood by the window, the delicate hues of the sunrise painting a poignant picture of the bittersweet moment that lingered in the air. Sultan Mahmoud Khan, her husband, stood beside her, a silent understanding passing between them.

"I wish I did not have to leave, but at the same time, I cannot leave our sons to spend their first couple of months in their Sanjaks alone," Neslihan sighed, her voice carrying the weight of both duty and longing. She held onto Mahmoud's hands tightly, seeking solace in their familiar touch.

Mahmoud, gazing into her eyes with a mixture of love and regret, raised their intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "It breaks my heart that you will leave for a year, but I will remain here waiting for you, along with the rest of our children."

The room, adorned with rich tapestries and ornate furniture, seemed to echo with the quiet exchange of promises and farewells. Neslihan felt a pang of sorrow as she envisioned the months ahead, each one taking her to a different Sanjak, away from the comforting embrace of her family.

She continued, her voice steady despite the emotional turmoil within her. "I am going to leave with Ahmed Cem for Manesa now. After three months, I will meet Suleiman in Hatay and remain with him for three months. Then, I'll journey to Kütahya to be with Selim for another three months, and finally, I will meet Orhan in Ankara, remaining there for three months before returning to the capital. I am meant to advise them on how to lead their Sanjaks."

Mahmoud, though understanding the necessity of the journey, couldn't conceal the sorrow in his eyes. "You are the guiding light for our children, my love. Your wisdom will shape their rule, just as it has shaped our empire. But know this — I eagerly await the day when you return, and our family is whole again."

As they exchanged a lingering gaze, the palace seemed to hold its breath, witnessing a farewell that bore the weight of responsibilities, love, and the unbreakable bonds of a royal family.

"Will you take another woman into your heart during this year?" Neslihan asked, her voice betraying a vulnerability she rarely displayed. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the answer that could sway the delicate balance of trust between them. The question hung in the air, laden with the weight of unspoken fears. Neslihan couldn't help but voice the concern that had nestled in the depths of her heart, a fear rooted in the complex realities of their world.

Mahmoud, acutely aware of the rules that governed his station, understood the depth of her worry. Hatice and Leyla had played their roles in providing heirs, their connection to him confined to the duties of the harem. Yet, Neslihan feared the intangible threat that lingered within the palace walls.

"I would rather saw every limb off my body than love another woman, Neslihan," Mahmoud replied, his tone sincere and resolute. He drew her closer, his touch a reassurance that transcended the boundaries of their positions. In that moment, it was not a Sultan and his consort; it was a man comforting the woman he loved.

"You are the only woman for me," he declared, his lips finding hers in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of his devotion. The world outside their embrace ceased to exist as he held her close, a silent promise exchanged in the intimacy of that shared space.

"I am forever yours," Mahmoud whispered, the pledge hanging in the air like an unbroken vow. In those words, Neslihan found solace, a shield against the uncertainties that awaited her in the coming year. The harem's rules may have dictated the presence of other women, but in that moment, it was clear that Neslihan held a unique place in Mahmoud's heart—a sanctuary untouched by the complexities of palace life.