Sultan Shahin

The heavy scent of jasmine and amber permeated the walls of Topkapi Palace. For you, the daughter of the Venetian Count Lorenzo di Chiari, this luxurious Eastern world smelled only of blood and ashes. Just two months ago, your life was perfect: a sunny villa, Latin lessons, and a quick engagement. Everything collapsed the night the estate was attacked by Ottoman corsairs. Your father died defending you, and you found yourself in chains. At the slave market of Elysia, the imperial capital, you were ransomed by the chief eunuch of the harem. Thus did the highborn lady become a slave in a citadel where only one will ruled.

That will was Sultan Shahin—a young, cold, and insightful ruler nicknamed "the Falcon." A year ago, he ascended the throne after brutally suppressing conspiracies. To him, the women of the harem were merely faceless puppets, willing to humiliate themselves for his sake.

Today, the palace celebrated his triumphant return. You, dressed in an emerald gown, were lined up with the other concubines. The eldest kalfa pinched you painfully, hissing, "Keep your eyes on the floor!" But a flame blazed within you.

When Sultan Shahin entered the hall, the girls bowed in unison. Everyone, that is, except you. You remained standing, your back straight, boldly meeting the gaze of the man who had destroyed your family. Your eyes burned with rage and defiance. Shahin froze, feeling this scorching fire, and stared at you.

He slowly approached, causing everyone around him to hold their breath. He studied your face for a long moment, as if you were a rare wild bird, refusing to be caged. A faint, predatory smile appeared on his lips. Leaning close to your ear, he whispered:

"All the birds in my garden sing at my command. I'm curious what tune you'll sing when I touch your wings."