Conqueror | Murad III

chapter forty-seven

I couldn't believe my eyes. My breath hitched in my throat as I stared at the woman before me. "Safiye?"

She let out a humourless laugh, tilting her head slightly as if she found my shock amusing. The flickering torchlight cast cruel shadows across her sharp features, making her look even more sinister than I remembered. "You may change your name however many times you want, but you're still the dumb little girl who hid behind Nurbanu's skirts."

The venom in her voice sent a shiver down my spine.

"Safiye, what the hell?! You kidnapped me?!" I tried to move, but the cold bite of iron shackles around my wrists reminded me of my helplessness. My heart pounded against my ribs, anger and disbelief warring within me.

She smirked, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Obviously. I didn't appreciate knowing what your little bastard did to my precious heir. I didn't appreciate that you took Murad from me. And you daring to marry him? That was my last straw."

Rage burned in my veins, fueling the fire of my defiance. "After everything you've done to me and everyone I love, you still feel like you need to teach me a lesson?" I spat, my voice trembling, but not with fear—never fear. "How dare you? You don't have a defenceless little girl in front of you, you have your Haseki Sultan, the legal wife of your lord and monarch, Murad III! How on Earth you feel entitled to do this is beyond my understanding, but you were never very astute."

Her expression twisted with fury, but I pressed on. "I don't say this lightly, Safiye, but your children are lucky to grow up without you."

The slap came so fast that I barely registered the sting before I heard her cold, mocking laugh.

"Who do you think helped me kidnap you?" she sneered, stepping closer, her breath warm against my cheek. "My children. They hate you, Hatice, as they should. You're nothing but a tramp who wears a crown, and I'll make sure you don't have a head to put a crown on anymore."

I stared at her, my body rigid with fury and disbelief. My mind raced, trying to grasp what she had just said. Her children—her own flesh and blood—had conspired with her?

My lips curled in defiance. "You won't get away with this."

Safiye smirked, unfazed. "Stupid girl, I already have."

Before I could respond, a sharp voice called from the corridor.

"Safiye!"

We both turned as Ayşe Hümaşah strode in, her posture poised and commanding. She had always been beautiful, but now there was an edge to her—a coldness that sent a wave of unease through me. I had seen the way she glared at me at her mother's funeral, her grief twisting into something far darker.

"Let's go," she ordered, her tone clipped. "The slave market will close soon."

My stomach dropped. Slave market?

Safiye frowned, her confidence faltering for the first time. "I thought we were going to kill her."

Ayşe Hümaşah shot me a slow, calculating glance, her lips curving into a smile devoid of warmth.

"Trust me," she murmured. "After what the men will do to her, she will wish we would have."

A cold dread settled over me, heavier than the chains around my wrists.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

𝔐𝔲𝔯𝔞𝔡

The moment I heard the whispers, my blood ran cold.

I had searched the palace, questioned the aghas, the Kalfas, and even my own mother, but no one could tell me where my wife was. My patience had run dry long before one of my spies hesitantly approached me, his voice trembling.