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...
Ümmügülsüm and I were taking a stroll through the gardens. She, heavily pregnant, marked the rhythm of our walk as her belly did not make any movement easy. We were deep into a conversation when we encountered Nazperver, looking as smug as always.
"Hüsniye," she said as she mockingly bowed, then glared at my daughter-in-law for barely making a courtesy. "It appears that your slave is not well-trained."
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"If she is a slave, Nazperver, what does that make you?" I arched my brow. "Besides, have you not heard? His Majesty freed her when he heard of her pregnancy. Say, you must feel incredibly jealous that a mere girl has everything you ever dreamt of."
Her cheeks flared crimson, but she spat back quickly: "You think that swollen belly will change what you are?" she said sweetly, venom lacing every syllable. "We are all concubines here, but at least I know my children have a father who acknowledges them."
The insult cracked through the air like a whip. Ümmügülsüm stiffened at my side.
I turned to her slowly—not with rage, but with that dangerous calm that only comes after the storm. "You have grown bold, Nazperver," I said, voice soft silk but edged like a dagger. "Perhaps too bold."
"It seems motherhood makes one arrogant."
"No," I murmured, taking a step forward. "Motherhood makes one powerful. Arrogance is speaking without understanding to whom you are speaking."
Her smirk faltered. She swallowed. "You are not the only mother in this palace," she tried weakly.
"No," I said, lowering my voice until only she could hear. "But I am the only one who is wife and haseki. Remember that before your tongue betrays you again."
The servants nearby were already whispering. Nazperver turned on her heel, but her retreat could not erase the heat of humiliation staining her face.
When she was gone, the gardens seemed to exhale.
Ümmügülsüm exhaled shakily. "Sultanım... why did you not punish her?"
I watched Nazperver's figure vanish between the rose bushes, the faint scent of jasmine rising in her wake. "Because," I said quietly, "vengeance served too soon is mercy. Let her grow comfortable in her safety. The fall will taste all the sweeter when she forgets to fear me."
Her grip on my arm trembled. "But...," she whispered, almost breaking, "what if she is right? What if they all despise me? What if they despise this child?" She pressed a trembling hand against her rounded belly. "And what if... what if it is not a boy?"
I turned to face her fully, cupping her face in my hands. She was so young—barely more than a girl—yet already carrying the weight of dynasties.
"Do not fear, my child," I said, steady though my heart ached for her. "Boy or girl, this little one is Selim's blood. That alone makes them a jewel greater than any crown prince."
