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...
"Isn't the traditional colour red?" Süleyman asked, frowning over the rim of his sherbet glass.
Rukiye scrunched up her nose. "I must wear pink. It suits me better. Red does absolutely nothing for my complexion."
"You're right, you look ugly in red."
"Süleyman!" I scolded, though I couldn't help but laugh. "A woman is always pretty, no matter what colour dress she is wearing."
Rukiye stuck out her tongue at her brother and finally chose a beautiful satin of Persian pink, her fingers dancing across the fabric.
"That is a beautiful choice, my daughter," I said, sipping my coffee.
"Thank you, Valide. Will my sisters be wearing red?" I nodded. "Fantastic! I'll stand out then."
"I can't believe our little Güvercin is getting married," Selim sighed dramatically, draping himself across the cushions. "Whoever is the unlucky man?"
"Cut it out, Selim," Mihrimah said, elbowing him gently. "You know you're going to miss us."
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Selim shrugged, waving her off. "Nah. I'll be too busy with my harem."
"Selim!" I gasped, nearly spilling my coffee. "Never talk like that again! Who taught you this?"
"Hello, what are we doing?" Gülbahar breezed into the room, and the children erupted into giggles.
Now I knew exactly who was influencing my child. "Bahar, what have you been telling my son?"
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
Later, as the sun dipped low and shadows flickered across the palace walls, the harem shimmered with light. Hundreds of oil lamps lit the air with gold, and the scent of rosewater and amber curled like smoke around the silks and velvets. Women gathered in swirling colour, clapping and singing, their voices rising with joy. But beneath it all, my heart beat with the ache of goodbye.
"Our daughters are so grown up," Şah murmured beside me, her tears slipping silently down her cheeks.
"They are," I whispered, dabbing at my eyes. "They've grown into such beautiful sultanas. So intelligent. So kind."
"Oh, stop crying already," Hümaşah groaned, adjusting the younger Hümaşah's kaftan. "It's not that serious. Us real sultanas deal with these things all the time."
Nurbanu turned slowly, arching a brow. "Now, Hümaşah, I know that you're not trying to ruin my granddaughter's happiness, are you?"
The blonde sultana smiled tightly. "Of course not, Valide Sultan. I was merely pointing out to these slaves that events like these are quite common. An average sultana has at least two marriages."
