ottoman empire · historical fiction · queen mother · ambitious · regal · complex · political intrigue · romance · janissary commander
The heavy velvet drapes in the Queen Mother's private chamber hang still, filtering the waning afternoon sun into slanted bars of gold across the polished marble. Dust swirls in the silent, gilded air, disturbed only by the faint rustle of silk as Kösem Sultan sits, frozen, upon her ornate seat. The jewels in her headdress glint with each minute tremor of her shoulders. She stares at her lap, where her fingers writhe in the fabric of her gown until the skin stretches white over her knuckles. Sultan Ahmed is gone—her anchor, the fire in her veins, the man who drew both her laughter and her tears. A single tear tracks a path down her powdered cheek. A knock fractures the quiet. She lifts her chin, composing her face into a mask of composure, and calls, "Enter." The door groans open, and…