“It’s not so simple for me either, you know,” I said. “I don’t like watching you walk—sprint—to danger.”
“I’m well trained by experience to handle this particular situation.”
“Can we compromise?” I asked. “We can both travel to whatever is the nearest town. You can go on to the site alone. If the person firing the shots is fixated on Benjamin, there’s no reason to think anyone else is in danger. I trust you to determine if that’s the case, and if it is, you can send for me.”
“And if it’s not?”
“I shall stay in town and content myself with reading,” I said.
“How can I possibly count on you to stay and wait for my message?”
“I’m reliability itself. I give you my word.”
He nodded. “All right. I’m willing to agree to that.”
I kissed him. “Thank you. You won’t regret it. Just think how tedious the trip would be without me.”
“I do rather like you on trains, although Benjamin said it’s not so far as to require that,” he said. “Regardless, there are several avenues I want to pursue here in town first.”
“Just don’t forget you agreed to take me,” I said, refilling his whiskey. “In the meantime, have you given any thought to taking up a swimming regimen? The Bosphorus is dangerous, and I can’t have you drowning when you lose our bet.”
“You’ve nothing to fear on that account.” His smile made every nerve in my body tingle. “I’m meeting with Abdül Hamit tomorrow afternoon.”
“You think he knows something?”
“We’re to be joined by the members of his palace spy network. He’s a paranoid man, our sultan—I’ve great hopes that at least one of his minions has seen something that can be of use to us.”
“So you’re trying to leap ahead of me?” I asked. “It won’t work, you know.”
“Do you know how to peel grapes, Emily? I’m told it’s hard work.”
“Is that so?” I gave him a quick kiss on each cheek. “Then I’m not sorry in the least I shall never have to learn how to do it.”
Chapter 5
I woke before the sun, roused by the haunting and spiritually seductive voice coming from the nearest mosque. As the muezzin called the faithful to prayer, I lay, still and silent, absorbing the sound—at once comforting and eerie—as it trembled through my body. When it fell quiet, I stretched and reached for Colin, who was as eager as I to take full advantage of the myriad daily benefits of married life.
The time passed quickly, and too soon we were up and dressed, both of us headed for appointments. I’d applied to Perestu, the valide sultan, asking that I be allowed to come to the harem and begin interviewing Abdül Hamit’s concubines, in particular Roxelana, who had discovered Ceyden’s body. Although I knew well the dangers of assumption—of following baseless instinct—I could not help conjuring up any number of romantic scenarios surrounding the girl, namesake of the most famous—infamous—of harem women. In the sixteenth century, a stunning and intelligent concubine, Roxelana, had seduced, cajoled, and influenced Suleyman the Magnificent, eventually persuading him to take her as his wife. It was the first time a sultan had married; no one before had risen above the rank of favored concubine, and Roxelana wielded no small amount of power over her husband.
My Roxelana was an entirely different beast. She met me, waiting on a bridge made from rough-hewn logs in one of the gardens attached to the harem at Yıldız. Her burgundy gown was the latest Western fashion—high collar, fitted waist, skirts flowing gently over her hips—her dark hair upswept and held in place by a comb encrusted with rubies. Enormous pearls bobbed on her ears, and she parted her full lips, licking them to glistening perfection as she started to speak once I’d introduced myself.
“I don’t see how I can be of any possible use.” Her voice, thinner than her beauty suggested, shook as she spoke.
“I know well how awful what’s happened has been for you,” I said. “I lost a friend last year in Vienna. He was murdered and I found his body. It affects you in unimaginable ways, and I’m so terribly sorry you’re suffering for it.”
While working the previous winter to clear Robert Brandon in the death of Lord Fortescue, the most odious human I’d ever met, I’d become tenuous friends with a man who was both an asset to me and an adversary. Mutual enemies had brought us together, and he’d ended up aiding my investigation. Finding his brutalized body in Vienna’s beautiful Stephansdom cathedral was worse than any nightmare, and I hoped never again to witness such a violent scene.
“Then you do understand,” she said. “Everyone wants me to push the memory aside, but no matter what I do it comes back in my dreams.”
“There are some things that never leave you entirely.”
“I wish this would,” she said. “I can’t bear seeing it over and over.”
I reached for her hand. “I know. There’s no real comfort to be had, but perhaps helping us find Ceyden’s murderer will bring some small measure of relief.”
She pulled her hand away. “Nothing will make this better.”
“I won’t disagree,” I said.
Her eyes were hard. “What do you want from me?”
“Tell me what you saw that night.”
“The courtyard in which Ceyden was... that courtyard is one of my favorites. I like to read there on a comfortable bench near the fountain.”
“Were you reading that night?”
“No. It was already dark. I only meant to say that it wasn’t unusual for me to go there. That’s all.”
“Was Ceyden there when you arrived?” I asked.
“Of course she was.”
“Did you see the attack?”
“No! Wouldn’t I have told the sultan? Or the guards? Why would you ask such a thing?”
“You might have been afraid, Roxelana,” I said. “It would be understandable.”
She stared at me, her eyes still hard, but curves returning to her lips. “I nearly tripped over her.”
“And she was dead?”
“I suppose so. I was scared and ran off screaming at once.”
