Haseki Mihrişah Sultan| Not To Be Continued

Coins of Wonder

There was a light. Not a blinding light, but a strong, white, beaming light. Then, the light began to fade. Out of the light, a man showed up. A young man with a serious face. He came closer, step by step, slowly closer. His eyes were cold. Suddenly, a fire lit up in them. It seemed like the fire was bursting out of his eyes. Such a big, big burning fire. I felt a heat. My whole body burning? I...I...I...
I woke up.
I looked around. Some girls were chatting with each-other.
- Thank God! - I sighed in my language.
A new week started for me. I had to make my intentions clear for myself if I really wanted to get out of here. If I really wanted to do something with my life.
At first, I was going to learn their language, Ottoman. Secondly, I had to find out more about the Harem: which Sultan was reigning, what was I supposed to do now, what my role is here, and so on. Then I had to find some friends. I wasn't planning on making everlasting friendships, but I at least needed to find someone to talk with. I felt invisible alone. After everything had gone to plan, hopefully, I would find a way to get out of here. My mother and my father didn't give birth to me to bow down to anyone, let alone be someone's slave. This is my life, and I will live it how I want to.
That morning, after we ate breakfast, the woman named Lalezar Kalfa took us to a pavilion, which served as a class to learn Ottoman. That was the first time most of us new girls had gotten out of the corridor where we would often stay. I learned that Harem is truly huge. There were halls, other smaller corridors, passing ways, second floor balconies, and so many rooms. Such an infrastructure wasn't usual for the Ottomans, now who had an empire, originating by a tribal descendancy. I recall that since when I entered the palace, I was surprised by all that organization, and the same thing happened also in the Harem. The pavilion where we entered was in a hallway that had many of them, each serving for a specific kind of class.

Out of those thirty girls there, two others were from my home country, a girl about my age named Eudokia, while another one, a year older than me, was named Olga. Now I was excited. I smiled when I heard them saying their origin. If someone saw me, must've thought I wasn't alright, but who cares? At least I know injustice wasn't done only to me, but so many other girls. Not all of them wanted to be there. Not all of them wanted to live their life as others wanted.
It turned out that Ottoman was a weird language. The priest of my village had mentioned it once that it is written from right to left, and not the opposite as the rest of Europe writes, but I didn't know that it was a totally different language with not a latin alphabet. Most of their letters looked the same, and reading them was a science on its own.
After maybe two hours, which seemed as a whole day, we finished our classes. While returning back to the Corridor of Concubines as it was called, in one of the hallways, Lalezar signalled us all to stop walking. I raised my head, and from the end of the hallway I saw coming a young lady, dressed really beautifully, with blonde hair, and a face that looked as if it was shined by the stars.