Small verbal rebellions Azra dared to make. Remarks no servant should have said. They slipped out of her like birds from a cage.
One day Selim was furious because an adviser had made a serious mistake. He barked orders, threatened punishments, and his face was red with anger. When everyone else had left, only Azra remained.
“What are you looking at?” he snapped. “I was just wondering whether shouting that loudly helps a man think more clearly, or just leaves him with a sore throat.” The room went still.
For one terrible second Azra thought she had gone too far. But then Selim did something unexpected. He laughed.
It was not loud or booming. It was quiet and rough, as if he had forgotten how. But it was real. “You are the only person in this palace who dares speak to me that way,” he said, shaking his head.
“Someone ought to. All that bowing can’t be good for a person’s back.” He laughed again, longer this time.
“Azra,” he murmured. “What am I supposed to do with you?” The weeks passed, and the changes became harder to miss.
The sultan, who once ate alone, now asked Azra to remain while he dined. They talked about everything and nothing—politics, history, the dreams she had before she was sold.
“I wanted to be a teacher,” she admitted one evening. “I wanted to teach poor children to read. My father taught me, and I wanted to pass that gift on.”
“You can read?” Selim asked, surprised. “Very few women can.” “My father believed knowledge belongs to everyone.”
“He used to say an educated mind is the greatest treasure.” Selim looked at her with something close to admiration. “Your father was an extraordinary man.”
“He was.” Azra lowered her eyes. “I miss him every day.”
“The pain of losing someone you love never really leaves,” Selim said softly. “You just learn to carry it differently.” It was the most human thing he had ever said to her.
But the eyes of the palace never slept. Queen Mother Sofia noticed the change in her son. The way he asked about Azra when she was not there.
The way his eyes softened when he saw her. The way, for the first time in years, he seemed almost happy. That was unacceptable.
“He’s growing attached to her,” Sofia said to Defne in her private chambers. Defne clenched her fists. “But she’s nobody.”
“Exactly. A nobody who has done what no concubine could—reach his heart.” Sofia walked to the window, her mind calculating as always. “I cannot strike at her openly.”
“My son would suspect. I need something cleaner.” “What do you have in mind, my lady?”
Sofia smiled a smile without a trace of warmth. “If I cannot destroy her by force, I will destroy her with disgrace. A woman in this palace can fall for only one thing—losing her honor, causing scandal.”
“Better than scandal,” Sofia said, her eyes flashing with malice. “Betrayal.” Meanwhile, Azra had no idea what was coming.
That evening, while tidying the sultan’s chambers, she heard his voice. “Azra, come here.” She obeyed, stepping closer until she stood right before him.
“Yes, my sultan.” Selim looked at her for a long time. There was something different in his eyes now, something softer and more exposed.
“Before you,” he said slowly, “this palace was a cold place. I was a cold man. The walls, the servants—everything was ice.”
“My sultan…” “Let me finish.” He reached out and, for the first time, touched her face.
Just the light brush of his fingers against her cheek, but it was enough to stop Azra’s world. “You came into my life like a warm breeze,” he went on, “small, almost unnoticed. But day by day the ice began to thaw.” “And now?” she whispered, barely breathing.
“Now I feel again.” His voice broke. “And I don’t know whether to thank you for that or resent you for it.”
Azra felt tears rise in her eyes. “You don’t have to choose,” she said. “Feeling is part of being human.”
“And you, my sultan, for all your power, are still a man.” Selim closed his eyes, his hand still resting against her cheek. “This cannot happen,” he whispered.
“You know that, don’t you?” “I do.” “You’re a servant. I’m the sultan. The laws, the traditions…” “I know.”
“Then why can’t I stay away from you?” Azra had no answer. Only the truth of her racing heart and the certainty that she was falling toward something inevitable.
Selim slowly lowered his hand. “Go,” he said, some of the steel returning to his voice. “Before I do something I won’t be able to take back.”
Azra nodded and walked to the door. But before she left, she whispered, “If it means anything, I can’t stay away from you either.” She closed the door.
In the darkness of his chambers, Sultan Selim was left alone with a truth he could no longer deny. He was falling in love with her, and it would ruin them both. Sofia Sultan’s plan was set in motion a week later.
It was a night like any other. The full moon shone over the Bosphorus, and the palace slept beneath the stars. Azra had finished her duties and was heading to her small room, tired but strangely happy.
She did not see the shadow following her. She did not hear the silent footsteps behind her. When she reached her room, she closed the door and began to undress for bed. She removed her veil, let down her black hair, and was about to blow out the candle when the door flew open.
A man came in. Azra cried out and covered herself with her arms. It was Tarik, a young palace guard.
His eyes were unfocused, confused, as if he did not understand how he had gotten there. “What…
