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Chapter 1: Princess Amira
Palace Harem Kingdom of Dagra, May 1843
"Come on Shayera just a few more steps, or are you getting slow in your old age?"
The Princess laughed and raced up the narrow stone steps.
The older girl resented the slander and flew up the stairs with intensified speed.
"Careful Amira, your balance might be thrown off by that big head of yours."
They ran with all their might. But, in the end, the two were well matched and reached the top together. Completely out of breath, with lungs burning, they fell to the floor laughing.
Shayera sat up and leaned on the tower's low wall. Feeling the cool stone press against her half-bare back. It was best to remain sitting. The girls knew the law of the harem, which forbade any woman from climbing the tower, but it mattered little to them. They had been sneaking up here since they were old enough to hide from their nurses.
"I won't be able to keep up with you much longer; not if you keep growing."
Shayera tossed her veil over her little sister's head. Amira swatted the cloth and pushed it back in her face.
Rolling onto her stomach the younger girl frowned. Crossing her eyes as she let out a groan.
"Ugh! Growing indeed!"
Shayera laughed.
"No, I'm serious!"
"Oh I know you are, that's what makes it so funny."
Amira pushed herself up and punched Shayera in the shoulder.
"Ow! Alright, Alright!"
"I mean just look at these, things! It's like I woke up one day and bam!"
Shayera howled.
"Bam!"
"Stop it! It isn't funny! Who knew they would be so uncomfortable. If I had known that before I never would have wished for them."
Shayera gasped for air, clutching her midsection, as tears rolled down her face.
"Oh aren't you vain!"
"I am not!"
"Yes, you are! For months you complained that if you didn't get breasts you would run into the desert and die. Now you've gotten your wish and you act as if it's a curse because you, my unsatisfied little sister, are as vain as a peacock!"
Shayera smiled at Amira's sufferings and let out a sigh. Closing her eyes she tipped her head back, resting it on the wall's ledge. A breeze blew, making her earrings jingle and dance.
"You, needn't worry about anything. With a face like that, every man from here to the red sea will be crawling across the desert to beg for you. If I had a figure like yours I wouldn't settle for anything less than a prince. To think, you aren't even done growing! You're almost as tall as me now, give it another month and you'll pass me altogether. No, you have nothing to vex your pretty little head about. I'll be lucky if Alab manages to pay someone to take me."
"Why do you say that?"
"Look at me!"
Shayera sat up and faced her sister, giving a good view of her features.
"What man wants a wife with hair the color of fire, skin like sand, and eyes to remind him of illusive green pastures? I'm the one that's cursed!"
Amira covered her mouth, failing to muffle her laughter.
"Well, how about a goat herder? I bet he would like having a wife that can blend in so well with the desert. He might even find green eyes a good omen. Yes, that's what you need! A nice, old, goat herder. I'm sure he would be happy to take you for a third…no fourth wife."
Shayera pushed her over for such an insult, and then enveloped her giggling little sister in a hug.
The two had been close since they were toddlers. They were the youngest of the Sultan's children and only a year apart in age which had made them natural playmates.
One thing that had drawn them together was their appearance. Neither blended well within the harem. Not Amira, with her large azure eyes and pale skin, or Shayera, with light green eyes and red hair so unlike the dark beauty of their sisters.
No one would ever have pointed this fact out to Amira. She was the daughter of the first wife. But Shayera was not afforded such luxury. She had endured many slurs and insults at her foreign appearance.
The other women always took it as a great blessing if Shayera consented to cooperate. Amira was more tolerable.
Of course, not all the resentment harbored toward Shayera belonged at the girl's feet. It was her mother's tale which intertwined with her own and made things more complicated.
Shiera (Shayera's mother) was born in a country far to the north. She could never remember which country, she was so young when forced to leave. But, she recalled playing in the snow with a nameless brother.
When Shiera was young, she hadn't known for sure but guessed she was around 3, someone stole her from her home. Sold her to a slave trader further south who put her on a ship. Sending her even farther from her ancestral homeland. Once off the ship, another sold her again. This time to a local noble who desired a playmate for his sickly daughter.
She lived with the noble's family for three years. It was a pleasant time in her life and she remembered it as the only semblance of a childhood she had known. Unfortunately, the noble's daughter continued to weaken. Until succumbing to her illness. After his child's death, the noble saw no reason to keep her former companion around. So he sold her. Without even allowing her a chance to say goodbye.
All her life she remembered the terror that consumed her when that strange man entered the house. He took her by the arm, dragged her kicking and screaming out the door. Thrown her across a horse's back and tied her hands and feet so she couldn't escape. The last glimpse she had of her former owner was of him counting a small sack of golden coins.
From then on one master then another sold her until she lost count. Each perpetual sale moving her farther south. Until the sun shone hot and dry on her pale skin, and she first glimpsed palm trees peppering the landscape.
When she was on the cusp of womanhood she was sold once again. This time to a seedy caravan leader named Arash, whose eye for a good deal was as crooked as his teeth. It was while in his employ that she finally crossed into the seaside kingdom of Dagra. Seeing for the first time the dazzling splendor of that capital city.
Unfortunately, Arash soon got on the Sultan's bad side and found himself in danger of having his head removed from his shoulders.
In an attempt to save his skin, and knowing the Sultan's eye for beauty, he offered up his young slave girl as a gift. Hoping that she would soothe the Sultan's wounded vanity and calm his wrath.
The plan worked. Arash escaped with his life, banished from the kingdom's borders, and Shiera became the concubine of the Sultan of Dagra. Her pale red hair and light green eyes, which looked like the sea after a storm, enchanted the Sultan.
He so enjoyed his new "toy" that at every opportunity he would spend his time solely with her. His otherwise ignored wives did not take kindly to the new favorite. The poor girl found herself devoid of female companionship or protection in her new home.
Nura saw the situation as an unpleasant but temporary one and let the young girl be. She more than the rest understood the wandering affections of the Sultan.
But the Sultan's other wives, Maha, Nadia, and Fayza, did not view the situation with as much foresight. They tormented the girl.
Of course, no one asked Shiera if she wanted the Sultan's undivided attention. Nor would they have believed her answer. She was an outlet for their wounded vanity and they preyed on her subservient nature. A trait born from years of enslavement at the hands of other harsh taskmasters.
The hostilities did die down some at the birth of Shayera. Nura even visited her. Commenting on the baby's good fortune at surviving being born almost two months early.
"She's a fighter," Nura said.
No other prediction she ever made would be as true as that one.
Life became less hostile within the harem. Meanwhile, her relationship with the Sultan deteriorated.
He had wanted a son. He already had three daughters and saw another one as an insult to his manhood. Of course, he had sons, but he was not a man easily satisfied.
The attention lavished upon her before grew cold, even cruel. While his disappointment simmered, his determination increased.
It took many years. But when Shayera was seven her mother again bore a child. Yet this time, the fates were not as kind.
The child, a boy, died before taking his first breath. His mother never knew. Her mind was too torn apart by the fever that consumed her. Three days after her prince's death she too breathed her last.
The Sultan had her body buried without ceremony in the endless red sands. Their daughter would look across them from within her gilded cage. Searching for her mother's grave, never finding it.
The women of the harem should have rallied together around the motherless child, and they might have if she had not been such a glaring reminder of the rival they had hated.
Shayera had inherited her mother's light green eyes and red hair, with subtle differences. Her hair was a deeper shade of red and her skin wasn't as pale, being more olive tinted. Even so, there was no denying whose child she was.
"So this goat herder of mine, will he be young and handsome?" Shayera asked.
"Hmmm, I am afraid not…"
Amira put a hand on her forehead, closing her eyes, she stretched out the other hand. Mimicking a fortune teller she had once seen over the wall. In a shaky, forbearing voice she prophesied.
"Your husband will be 100, with a long beard that drags on the ground, a snaggle tooth, and mostly blind and deaf!"
"Good."
Amira broke her pretend trance and stared at her sister.
"Good? You want to marry a grouchy old man?"
"Why not? If he is old and blind then he won't be able to stop me from running away. Besides, I might like goats."
"You've never seen a goat."
"That's not true. Remember? Nadira had a goat."
"That wasn't a goat that was a demon! I'm glad he wound up being cooked."
"He was vicious. But poor Nadira, she loved that thing. Even had a servant carry it around on a pillow."
"Till he bit the servant. I repeat, not a good representative of goats."
"Maybe not."
They leaned against the wall. Listening to the faint hum of voices from the courtyard below.
Amira's fingers caressed the floor, absorbing the chill from the shade into her skin. Tracing intricate designs of flowers carved into the stone. The tower was so beautiful, you would never know its purpose was for war.
Built during a bloody civil war a century ago, the tower was a lookout for hostile troops. To hold them off while the women escaped through secret tunnels beneath the palace. Or so legend said. Shayera and Amira had searched countless times but had never been able to locate the tunnels. Still, the tower remained. Possessing the most wonderful view of the outside world; the forbidden world.
Shayera turned and looked over the edge.
"I think I see it?"
"Really! Where?"
"Here it comes! Look!"
Amira joined her, searching the ocean's horizon.
A small brown dot was growing closer. Taking on the form of a ship as it entered the harbor. Amira's heart pounded in her ears as she leaned over the edge, trying to get as close to the elusive vessel as possible.
"Can you see the flag? Do you know which one it is?"
Shayera narrowed her eyes, peering intently at the ship's rigging. Putting her hawk-like eyesight to use.
Amira gripped the stone ledge making her hands ache.
"It's English! That's the British flag, right? Blue and white with a red cross?" Shayera asked.
"Yes, yes that's it! That's the one!"
Amira wrapped her arms around her sister's neck and leaned out over the ledge. Trying to see the colors for herself.
"STOP!"
Shayera pulled her sister back before she fell to her death.
"I know you seem to think you can fly but I wouldn't suggest testing that ability."
"Sorry, but it is just so exciting to see one at last."
"Do you still plan on asking Nura to let you visit the ship?"
"Yes, but I know the decision isn't hers alone. I just hope she will be able to convince Alab."
"And do you really think you will be satisfied once you have seen it?"
The younger girl nodded vigorously.
"I just want to see it, just once."
Shayera looked back to the sea. She understood wanting to taste freedom, even if only for a moment.
"PRINCESS AMIRA! PRINCESS SHAYERA! COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!"
The girls fell to the floor.
"Do you think she saw us?" Amira whispered.
"I KNOW YOU'RE UP THERE!"
"I think she saw us."
Shayera stood.
"Coming!" she hollered and began their slow decline down the stairs.
Waiting at the bottom of the stairs was an unsmiling Egyptian woman. Her arms were too fat to cross so she rested her hands on her hips. She was short, barely coming to Shayera's shoulders, and had a triple chin that wobbled when she talked. Her name was Fadeela.
One look from her would make anyone wish to repent of all their sins or otherwise die from shame.
Fadeela was old, possibly 80. She had been Nura's nurse when she was young and had accompanied her as a young bride to the harem. She had also served as Amira's nursemaid and still felt responsible for the princess.
No one disobeyed her. Shayera had even seen the self-righteous Shani put in her place by Fadeela's disapproval.
The old servant waddled up to the girls and wagged a swollen finger in their faces.
"How many times must I tell you? It is forbidden to climb the tower!"
"We're sorry Fadeela but we just wanted to see the…"
"OH! Allah forgive me for not teaching them proper respect! I tried, you know I tried! Please save them from their own foolishness."
Shayera crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh honestly! It isn't like we jumped the walls and seduced every man from here to Damascus."
Fadeela slapped a hand over her heart causing her large bosom to shake. Amira shot Shayera a look, begging her to be silent. But the older girl shrugged her shoulders. Showing no remorse for disrespecting her elder.
Again a fat finger pushed itself into Shayera's face.
"You, Princess, will find your life very difficult unless you learn to curb that tongue of yours."
Shayera responded by sticking her tongue out. Amira gave her an elbow to the ribs and tried to apologize on her behalf.
"I am sorry Fadeela but it wasn't Shayera's fault. I was the one who wanted to see the ship."
"This again! I thought you had learned your lesson the last time."
The old woman sighed and studied them. A look of pity on her face.
With motherly sympathy, she took their slender hands in her chubby ones.
"Why can't the two of you be satisfied with what you have? You have good lives, you are Princesses. Oh my little girls, why do you try and vex my old soul."
That did it. Both girls hung their heads in shame and immediately apologized. Smiling in victory Fadeela turned on her heels and motioned them to follow.
"The banquet is in a few hours and it is time you two started getting ready."
They bathed, had oils rubbed into their skin, and their hair rinsed with rose water. It was the Sultan's birthday and celebrations had been going on for weeks. Tonight it was the harem's turn to honor him, and every woman wished to look her best.
Shayera had dressed in a light green top and loose pants that gathered around her ankles. Decorated with small yellow diamonds and silver thread creating flowers, vines, and leaves. Her top cut above her waist and servants had created an elaborate design on her hands, feet, and midsection with henna.
Amira had chosen a short top of pale pink and a skirt in the same color. Gold thread and beads created bursting sun patterns along the neckline and hem. On her arms, she wore bands of hammered gold and her wrists jingled with bangles of various precious metals.
The girls sat in the courtyard on a large Persian carpet as servants braiding their hair. Amira rummaged through various chests and cases. Picking what jewelry she wanted to wear. Shayera held an ornate mirror to her face as she applied kohl around her eyes.
The sun was setting and a cool breeze blew through the courtyard. Many of the others were also getting ready in the shade of the courtyard. The sound of soft chatter and female laughter wafted like music through the air.
"So, did you ask her?"
"No. I haven't seen my mother all day. She has been busy making sure her slaves delivered the food and money she wished to give to charity."
"Your mother certainly gives a lot to charity. Not to mention that whenever there is a crisis in the harem she takes it upon herself to settle the matter."
"Well, she is supposed to. She's ruler of the harem."
"I know, but don't you ever feel like she takes too much upon herself?"
Amira shrugged her shoulders and continued searching through the jewels.
"Look at that!"
Shayera turned from her reflection to see Amira remove a small doll from a box. It was a wooden doll carved in the image of Amira, though a much younger version. It was once painted with bright colors that were now faded and chipped.
"I had forgotten about this! I can't believe I still have it. Shayera where's yours?"
The older girl returned her attention to the mirror and shrugged.
"I don't know. I doubt I even still have mine."
Amira returned the doll to the box and returned to searching.
"Ugh!"
"What's the matter? Nothing suit your vanity?" Shayera asked, putting the finishing touches on her eyes.
"What do you think?" she turned her face one way then the other. Giving Amira a good view of her handiwork.
"Very nice, and for your information, I was looking for something for you."
"Me?"
"Yes, but if you wish to continue insulting me..."
"No, no, no don't be like that. I love presents! What is it?"
Amira's smile broadened as she pulled an exquisite rope of pearls from a deep chest and held them out to her sister.
Shayera took in a sharp breath. She owned many nice things, but nothing compared to this.
"Amira, it's…they're…I can't."
"Of course you can!"
She draped the priceless necklace over her sister's head and sat back admiring the effect.
"Now you look like a Queen!"
"Amira, really I can't take these, they're yours."
"Nonsense! I want you to have them, don't you like them?"
Shayera's hands closed around the pearls.
"Of course I do. I love them."
"Then it's settled!"
Amira smiled and when back to rummaging through the jewelry pile, this time procuring a pair of earrings for herself.
Shayera rolled the pearls between her fingers.
"Thank you."
Feet slapping against the marble floor reached their ears. The girls turned to see one of Nura's servants coming toward them. She knelt on the floor and bowed.
"Princess Amira, your mother wishes to see you. She is waiting in her chambers."
Amira nodded to the servant.
"Thank you Fawzia, please tell her I am on my way."
She bowed again and scurried to obey.
"Do you think it's about the tower?" Shayera asked.
"Only one way to find out."
Nura sat on her expensive cushions. Watching as slaves laid out one lavish outfit after another. She needed to decide what to wear to the banquet, but her mind wouldn't focus.
She hadn't been sleeping well. Troubling dreams of a pale woman with blonde hair haunted her. Every night the woman called out to her and made her sin known.
Nura tried to push back the unsettling memory.
She would have Fadeela arrange for more food to be taken to the poor later.
And will that be enough Nura? Will, that stop your dreams? Will it finally erase what you've done?
"Ami?"
Nura snapped back to reality. Her daughter, her beautiful daughter, was watching her.
"Are you alright?"
Amira knelt before her mother. Nura put her hand to her daughter's face. Her darker hand contrasting with Amira's lighter skin.
Kissing her forehead she helped the girl stand.
"I am fine my sun and stars, just tired. Let me see your outfit."
Amira spun so her mother could view her in all her glory.
Nura applauded.
"Very beautiful! I see Wafa has braided jasmine into your hair, it is a nice touch."
"Thank you, Ami."
"I wanted to make sure you were properly dressed, tonight is an important event. But I see your judgment is more than suitable, you look wonderful!"
Amira spun once more and the bells on her ankles sang.
"Ami, may I ask you for something?"
"Of course my love."
Amira took and deep breathe.
"I WANT TO VISIT THE SHIP!"
Nura blinked.
"What?"
"I'm sorry Ami but we climbed the tower today and…"
"Yes, I know. Amira, you know it is forbidden…"
"I know but we saw a ship, an English ship!"
Nura felt herself being suffocated but managed to keep her features serene.
"Did you?"
"Yes, and please I promise just let me see it once and I will never ask again….AND I WON'T CLIMB THE TOWER FOR A MONTH!"
Nura couldn't help but smile. Amira had always been unusually honest for a child. Evidence by the fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to ignore the temptation of the tower forever.
Nura looked at her daughters pleading face and knew she could deny her nothing.
"I will speak to the Sultan tonight. He has summoned me after the banquet."
Amira squealed and hugged her mother.
"I have to tell Shayera!"
She ran from the room and Nura felt her legs go weak.
Falling to her knees she fought back her terror.
Allah help me.
After the Banquet.
Nura held her head high as she walked down the seemingly endless corridor to her husband's chambers.
Once in front of the impressive double doors, she waited patiently for the servant to announce her.
Upon entering she had to work hard to keep her breathing steady as she bowed before the man upon whom her whole life depended.
"Greetings my lord."
He motioned for her to rise and smiled menacingly as he looked at his wife.
Nura had to admit that despite his age he was still, physically, an impressive looking man.
"Nura, just as lovely as ever."
She had the decency to blush at his compliment, though she knew it was only lip service. There was no love lost between them now. She had been his wife for over thirty years and born him four sons. Sons whom he had all but taken away.
They will not learn much raised in the world of women.
Her husband. Her Sultan. The man she was bound to serve.
"You sent for me my lord?"
"I did, I wished to discuss your daughter."
Nura's hands clenched.
"What about Amira?"
His smile increased.
"I only wish the best for her. That reminds me, I have heard that you have been having trouble sleeping recently."
She wasn't surprised he knew about that; he had spies everywhere.
"Well, you will be pleased to hear that I have arranged to take care of your guilt, and Amira too."
Nura lost herself in panic and approached her husband.
"What have you done Garsiv?"
His brow narrowed and she immediately dropped her gaze.
His smile returned.
"I have sent inquiries and found some pleasant news. Turns out the girl's family lives, and they will be most pleased to take her back as one of their own."
"The ship!"
"Yes, it arrived this morning. Her people are most anxious for her return and I have no desire to prolong their wait."
Nura's knees smacked the floor and tears streamed down her face.
"Why are you doing this? You can't take her from me. She is my daughter!"
The Sultan stood over the woman who crouched before him.
"My generosity gave her to you, and it is my wish that she be taken away. Wars are not cheap my dear and if you wish to keep those pretty jewels around your neck then sacrifices must be made."
Nura ripped the necklace from her throat and threw it at his feet.
"TAKE IT! TAKE ALL OF IT! JUST DON'T TAKE HER!"
The Sultan waved his hand.
"It is already done."
A scream pierced the air. Tears flowed from her eyes as her heart broke.
"Get up wife!" He hissed.
Two slave girls scurried to help her to her feet. Though they had to hold her up for she could no longer support herself.
He clapped his hands and a woman stepped forward. She was strangely dressed and carried several bolts of doughty colored cloth.
"This is Laurel. She will make sure the Princess is ready for her voyage."
He waved her away and the servants practically carried Nura to the door.
"The Princess is not to be told. Tell her that her wish has been granted. In a few weeks' she will be allowed to visit the English ship. And Nura, no one else is to be told either."
I can't even say goodbye.
This time the servants did have to carry her out for she had fainted.
In the chaos no one noticed a slight shadow disappearing down the hallway.
Six days later Sultan's Harem, Dagra
Amira twirled before the full-length mirror admiring her reflection. So absorbed in her appearance she didn't notice her mother enter the room.
"And what sort of garment is that?" asked Nura as she sat on the bed.
Amira's eyes danced as she showed off for her mother.
"It's a dress Ami, don't you think it is lovely?"
Nura looked at the brown woolen dress.
It had a high collar and no embellishment. The sleeves were long reaching all the way to the wrist and seemed a bit too tight for comfort. Amira, being too caught up in the newness of the experience, failed to notice the dress's failings.
She spun again watching the heavy skirt flail about her.
"And look at this!"
She lifted the skirt to reveal layers of similar skirts in white as well as funny looking little pants that stopped at the knee and black things covering her legs. On her feet was a pair of brown boots that seemed most unbecoming to Nura's eye.
"Why so much?"
"Laurel said it is so the crew will not be embarrassed by my presence."
"I say they will not, for it is you dear daughter who will be embarrassed."
Amira laughed and kissed her mother's cheek.
"Thank you so much!"
Nura had to fight back tears as she forced a smile.
In a moment of weakness, she grabbed her daughter and held her in a bone-crushing embrace.
"Ami! You'll ruin my dress!"
Nura let her go.
Amira returned to the mirror.
"Oh, it is just wonderful! I must show Shayera!"
She raced out of her room, leaving her mother behind.
It was late. Most everyone else was already asleep, but Amira hoped that her sister wouldn't be. Sure enough, Shayera was awake. Sitting up on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, watching the shadows cast by the lantern dance on the wall. She didn't smile when her sister entered. She only looked on while the younger showed off her new outfit.
Amira didn't even notice.
"Don't you like it Shayera?"
"It's very nice Amira."
Moving to Shayera's mirror Amira continued to dance before her reflection.
Shayera watched her with an emotionless face.