The Desert Falcon

Chapter 8, The Turbulent Sands

Fatimah was the last of my companions to ensure that every bobble on my being, every gold bangle on my wrist, and every strand of my hair that seem to take a life of its own and required an army of women to dress and situate, was in place.  I felt like a proverbial doll, the strange, duplicitous facade reminding me that I was at the Sultan's mercy.  Everything was for him, to please him, including this farcical portrayal of me. 

Fatimah stepped back allowing me the chance to stand as I was in my current glorified nature, dripping in decadent, resplendent jewelry and silk, with delicate, embroidery and stitching that highlighted the nature of my physique and clothing to draw the eye.   I faced the looking glass, taking in a woman who appeared so out of place in the harem.  I had no inkling as to whether to break out into laughter or cry at what I had been reduced to because the fact of the matter was that to any other woman, I had been exalted into a highly covetous position of being the Sultan's desired.   I would be considered mad for thinking such thoughts and wishing to be far away from this place and my current position. 

My spiraling dark thoughts were quickly interrupted when Fatimah spoke.  "You look beautiful.  Our Sultan will be pleased." 

I gave an unladylike snort, as I shot a look to her through the looking glass.  "I look like a joke.  If he wanted to play with dolls, could he not have purchased one from the bazaar?"

A servant nearby, who I had not known hovered in the corner until now, choked in horror.  So loud it was that it took but a moment for her to compose herself from the ensuing embarrassment of having been discovered for her reaction afterwards. 

Fatimah turned to her, as confused silence settled in the air.  "She did not mean that."

Turning to her, "Trust me, I mean every word I say." 

She looked horrified.  

I could not stem the strange feeling of power and astonishment that coursed through me the longer I stared upon myself.  I was used to donning on men's clothing and other serviceable attire when I worked, rode, or studied, but to be indulged in such vibrant colors and jewelry befitting a harem woman was something else entirely.  These women were the most powerful in all of Persia and I felt considerably out of place.  I was naught but a fraud and it was with a sense of burgeoning awareness that I wondered if the Sultan wished to mold me like them, just so I would bend to his sexual whims.  Far be it from me to correct him that merely placing me in clothing befitting of someone of such an exalted position would suddenly redirect my desires and behavior.  

Fatimah had no further words to impart, as I stepped away from the looking glass.  The maneuvering in all of my finery stole my attention, as I was guided by two eunuchs out of the harem.  I was patently aware that I could not hope to sneak out quietly between the heavy material of my dress to the clinking of my anklet, clasped around my ornately-henna'd feet.  I would need to find another opportunity to escape.   

The evening was beginning to set and the warm night air teased the surface of my skin as I felt every sensitized brush of the air like a lover's caress. I realized now what the fragrant oils were meant to do other than to soften my skin. It was to ensure that I was receptive to the Sultan's touches, eager to beg for more.  Mareena believed it pleased the Sultan to see us submit so wantonly to him in the throes of passion. 

It sickened me that I was dressed up like some kind of plaything for the Sultan, so devoid of any other use than to please him.  Even the colorful, depth of my gray gaze had been enhanced by the artistic use of kohl, highlighting a sharp, slanted nature to my eyes making them appear even more vibrant and alluring. My lips were brought to life with rouge, some even applied to my cheeks as if to sculpt them to new shape, further emphasized by the use of powder. I was startled by the drastic change in my appearance. I no longer looked like a scholar's daughter, but instead a woman that resided in the harem, subjected to a new way of life where I was to see to the Sultan's every sexual whim.