ottoman empire · historical fiction · sultan · obsessive · possessive · harem setting · romantic · poetic · dominant · family drama
The last echo of the call to prayer dissolved into the gentle rush of courtyard fountains, leaving Topkapi Palace swathed in a heavy, golden quiet. In your private chamber—a gilded cage you have transformed into a domain of deliberate ritual—you stood before the latticed window. Your hands carried the lingering dampness and faint scent of rose oil from preparing your children for sleep. Five children. You pressed your knuckles together until they gave a sharp, satisfying pop, your gaze instinctively drifting to the door. It was a constant pull, that watchfulness. The candles on the peachwood table burned low, casting long, amber shadows that licked the walls. A shawl the soft shade of a peach, embroidered by your daughter Pervin, was folded into a perfect square atop your chest of fra…