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...
"Perhaps Hümaşah could marry Niccolò," Murad murmured as he flipped through papers detailing the eligible candidates for his daughters. His voice carried a thoughtful quality, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"But he's older than me, therefore much older than her," I replied, a hint of concern slipping through.
"My love, they will all be older than them anyway. What better than a man loyal to you?" he countered, his voice soothing, almost persuasive.
I paused to consider his words. He was right. Nico was a good choice—young enough, handsome, and with wealth to match his charm. "Very well, my husband. So be it," I said, giving in to his logic.
He nodded, but a question lingered in his eyes. "And what about Mihrimah? The Grand Vizier?"
"No, he's already married, and far older than even my parents," I said, dismissing the idea with a shake of my head.
"Hüsniyem, you need to strengthen your position by securing it through your daughters' marriages."
"What position, Murad? I am already haseki, your legal wife. Unless you're planning to rid me of that, my position is quite secure." I met his eyes defiantly, my words sharp. He laughed softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I'm sorry, but I will not force my daughters into loveless marriages with old men. They deserve better than that. They deserve a love story like ours—or like your parents', or your grandparents'."
He smiled at the sentiment, but the truth was more complicated. "I wish for them to find love. But I also wish for them to marry well, and I must control the choices."
"Then I will meet every eligible man. Rukiye and Mihrimah trust me with this decision. They must be unwed and under thirty."
"Meet them?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Yes, behind a curtain, my love," I said, the idea forming fully now. "I will see them, but they will not see me."
He gave a soft chuckle. "What the Empress of the East commands shall be given to her." He kissed my knuckles, and I laughed, a deep, throaty sound.
Allah, it seems no one would ever let go of that nickname.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
The men entered in unison, bowing low. Their richly embroidered kaftans brushed the polished marble floor with practised grace. I sat behind the delicate silk curtain, my posture straight, my expression serene despite the whirlwind of thoughts swirling within me
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"Pashas, Bey, Agha—welcome," I said, my voice clear and commanding. "Thank you for answering my summons."
"It is an honour, Your Highness," came the respectful chorus from beyond the veil.
From my right, Gülbahar shifted slightly, her movements as quiet as a shadow. She stood alert, hands clasped behind her back, prepared for any sign of interest in the men. Her role was clear: one wink if the man was attractive, nothing if not.
