Caterina spent her whole life being underlooked and misunderstood.
Hatice spent her whole teenage years chasing a man who loved another.
But Hüsniye became more than a pawn. She became a queen. She conquered the heart of the Ottoman Sultan, the hear...
I sang softly to Selim as his breathing evened out, his head nestled in my lap. My fingers combed through his red locks, calming him as much as I. His bravery in helping his siblings escape during the chaos of the fire made my heart swell with pride. "What are you thinking about, my lion?" I asked gently.
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"Valide, what if the fire had hurt us?" His voice was small, his question heavy with lingering fear.
"But it didn't, Selim'm," I assured him, cupping his face in my hands. "Allah protects us always."
His sapphire eyes searched mine. "You promise?"
"I swear," I said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "And if Allah isn't available, I will protect you myself."
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
The next day, Murad summoned the consorts, the Valide Sultan, and myself to his chambers. The air was heavy with tension as accusations flew like arrows. Nazperver's voice rang out, sharp and indignant. "This is absurd! We all know Safiye had the most to gain from such chaos."
Safiye bristled, cutting her a glare. "If I wanted chaos, Nazperver, you wouldn't be standing here to accuse me."
"Enough!" Murad's voice thundered, silencing the bickering. He turned to me, his eyes weary. "Hatice, you've been quiet. What do you think?"
"They could've killed all your children, Sultan," I said, my voice steady but cold. "This was no mere accident. The culprit must pay for such treachery."
Nurbanu, standing to Murad's right, smiled faintly, her sharp eyes gleaming. "I believe I have an idea of where to start."
"Validem?" Murad asked, his tone a mixture of caution and curiosity.
Nurbanu's expression darkened. "This wasn't the work of any of your consorts. The fire reeks of desperation, not ambition. I believe the culprit lies among the consorts of your late father, may Allah grant him Jannah."
The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of the hearth.
Safiye folded her arms. "The Old Palace consorts? Do you mean to say one of those grieving women dared—"
"Grieving does not absolve guilt," Nurbanu snapped. "And I have a suspect. Emel Hatun."
The name sent a ripple through the room. Murad frowned. "She left for the Old Palace months ago."
"Stalling," Nurbanu said coolly. "She left this morning. But not before making her mark."
I stiffened as memories of Manisa resurfaced. "She sent spies to Manisa," I murmured.
Murad's head snapped toward me. "What spies? Why am I only hearing of this now?"
"Because I handled it," I replied, meeting his gaze. "And I hoped to spare you unnecessary worry. But it seems my instincts were correct."
