I fell in love with my Sultana- English Version-COMPLET

5. A Washing Of Hands

When I woke up, I noticed a blurry silhouette in my room. Opening my eyes fully, I saw Hadassa, with her veil over her face, sitting on a piece of furniture. She immediately stood up and greeted me with a "good morning, Sultana," to which I responded with a smile and a hearty "good morning, Hadassa."

Strangely, I was very happy to see her there. Hadassa offered me a basin to wash my hands, and although I knew her purpose, I decided to ask her to hear her explanation. Sweetly, she replied, "To wash your hands, Sultana." I appreciated her gesture, but instructed her to leave it on the piece of furniture and that I would use it myself. This small deviation from protocol seemed to disconcert her, since, according to the rules, she was supposed to carry it to bed.

After washing my hands and mouth with a mint compound, I asked Hadassa to request breakfast from the maid waiting outside. Then, I sat on the floor on a finely embroidered silk cushion, motioning for Hadassa to sit as well. Despite protocol dictating that a sultana should be in a higher place than a maid, I decided to break that rule at that intimate moment.

Gently, I approached her face and before removing her veil, which piqued my curiosity, I said, "Inside the harem, you do not need to wear the veil. The only man present here is the sultan and the eunuchs, so you do not need to cover yourself." Then, carefully, I slowly removed her veil, revealing a beautiful face and exquisite black hair. I don't know why, but something about that moment made my heart beat faster and I sensed Hadassa shudder when I touched her face. An aura of excitement and possibility filled the room, creating a special bond between us.I had seen countless beautiful women, but Hadassa's gaze had a power that left me disconnected from myself.

Hadassa's Perspective

My name is Hadassa and I am Jewish. Together with my parents, I fled the Kingdom of Aragon and Castile when the Catholic Monarchs ordered the expulsion of my people. However, on the way, we were cruelly attacked by robbers and were on the verge of death. It was then that an Ottoman man, moved by our status, protected and cared for us until he brought us to his home. I was only 11 years old when I witnessed the death of my parents, but the wife of this Ottoman lord took pity on me and adopted me as her own daughter. I learned to write and read Turkish thanks to her, until the opportunity arose to enter the palace.

The free maids in the palace are employees, not concubines. They work for a salary and enjoy wealth and privileges. The Ottoman family that adopted me saw in this opportunity the possibility of securing my future without having to marry, which allowed me to live without the pressure of marriage. Although I longed to marry a Jew, I knew it was complicated.

Being in the same room as Sultana Ayşe, I realized I had never seen her face before. I looked at her as she slept, with her face that seemed sculpted by God's own hands and her beautiful hair that I couldn't stop looking at.

As we sat waiting for the meal and I saw her come closer to uncover my face, I felt a mixture of emotions. Why did such a beautiful and important woman want to look at my face?

When she finally did, I noticed that she kept looking at me. Her gaze began to make me uncomfortable in a pleasant way, even though it sounds strange. Then breakfast came and she said, "Stay seated, you are now my right hand."

The maids who brought breakfast stood. I couldn't help but admire the beauty of the room and take in that I was serving the Sultan's favorite daughter. What I admired most about the Sultana was her altruism, love, and patience, although she always maintained her reserve. I had spent months watching her pass by from afar, but I had never seen her beautiful face.I have to admit that I still suffer from being separated from my adoptive family, and having to abstain from my traditions, I hope I can find a new purpose working alongside the sultana.