Conqueror | Murad III

chapter sixty

Dearest Mirimah and Rukiye,

On February 14th, 1581, you got married in a grand celebration along with your sisters Hümaşah and Fahriye, and already left for your new lives in your new palaces.

I cannot put into words how proud I am of you. You took your new roles with responsibility and grace, showing once more that you are the most perfect sultanas. Mihrimah, with her poised attitude, it seemed that you have been waiting for this moment your whole life. Rukiye, with her fiery spirit, you demonstrated once more your intelligence beyond your age.

I vow to you that nothing bad will ever happen to either of you, and that you'll always have a home wherever I am. You are my life, my purpose, but I know that you were prepared to leave the nest, as soon your siblings will follow.

Know that you are missed. Know that you are loved. Know that whatever you decide to do, I will back you up with all my might.

I love you with all my heart, my brave girls.

Your mother, Hüsniye.

"Valide, they won't stop following me!" Hanzade's shrill complaint tore me from the gentle reverie of my letter. I blinked, looking up from the page as the sound of hurried footsteps filled the chamber.

I couldn't help but laugh when I saw her—flustered and flushed—marching into the room, trailed closely by Abdullah, Süleyman, Nefise, and little Neslihan, like ducklings behind their beleaguered mother.

"Ya Allah, Hanzade, I believe you're taking over my role already."

She gasped, clutching her chest in mock offense. "No! I'm far too young and far too beautiful to have children. I am but twelve!"

"Do you realise you might be an aunt soon?" Gülbahar interjected slyly, brushing Neslihan's unruly curls as the little one squirmed on her lap.

Hanzade rolled her eyes. "Well, I certainly hope it's from Mihrimah. Rukiye would sell her children for jewellery in a heartbeat—and Selim is... well, you know."

Selim, who had been leaning against a nearby column, visibly bristled. "What's wrong with me?"

She turned to him with a theatrical flourish. "I mean, who would even like you?"

"Hanzade," I warned lightly, though the corners of my lips were already betraying my amusement.

"I'm sorry, Valide, but just look at him!"

"Valide, did you hear that?!" Selim cried, collapsing dramatically onto a nearby divan. His younger siblings burst into laughter.

My eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. "Hanzade... did Mihrimah put you up to teasing your brother in her absence?"

Caught, she looked down, suddenly interested in smoothing imaginary wrinkles on her skirt. "That may or may not have happened."

"I cannot believe this! My own twin?" Selim wailed, clutching his chest as if wounded.

"Oh, calm down. She sent you a concubine, didn't she?"

That shut him up. He sat up straighter. "Did she now?"

"Yes, and she didn't ask for my opinion first! I'm furious. Everyone appreciates my advice—even Father listens to me." Hanzade huffed and crossed her arms.

"He'd be a fool not to," I murmured, kissing her temple. "Do not worry, my gem. I helped Mihrimah with her choice. And you," I turned to Selim with a raised brow, "you had better be the picture of courtly behaviour."

He grinned and placed a hand on his heart. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Oh, Selim, how innocent of you. You're not permitted to die—not anytime soon."