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 Y?ld?z. 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.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why didn’t you assume she’d fallen or fainted?”
“Everything about her pose looked wrong. Nothing seemed natural, and I could tell at once something terrible had happened.”
“But you didn’t know she was dead?”
“No.” Her pupils were tiny dots. “Instinct told me it was bad—which is why I went for help.”
“Was there anyone else in the courtyard?”
“Not that I saw,” she said.
“But you’re not certain?”
“It was dark. I imagine it’s not impossible that someone was hiding in the shadows. Is that what you’d like me to say?”
“I’d like you to say the truth.” I bit the inside of my cheek, frustration pushing against me. “Do you have a reason not to want to?”
“No one ever wants to tell the truth in the harem,” she said. “But in this case, I’ve nothing to hide. I wish I’d seen something more.”
“Do you have things to hide in
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 Y?ld?z. 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.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why didn’t you assume she’d fallen or fainted?”
“Everything about her pose looked wrong. Nothing seemed natural, and I could tell at once something terrible had happened.”
“But you didn’t know she was dead?”
“No.” Her pupils were tiny dots. “Instinct told me it was bad—which is why I went for help.”
“Was there anyone else in the courtyard?”
“Not that I saw,” she said.
“But you’re not certain?”
“It was dark. I imagine it’s not impossible that someone was hiding in the shadows. Is that what you’d like me to say?”
“I’d like you to say the truth.” I bit the inside of my cheek, frustration pushing against me. “Do you have a reason not to want to?”
“No one ever wants to tell the truth in the harem,” she said. “But in this case, I’ve nothing to hide. I wish I’d seen something more.”
“Do you have things to hide in
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