Gold Dust was unaware of the events that had transpired in the courtyard, a domain of men, where horses were kept and tamed, where men were once punished and beheaded. But Narcissus, who never hesitated to bear bad news, gushed the story to her with relish and embellishment.

Gold Dust prayed that the late shah’s madness had not flared with more intensity in her daughter.

That night, for the first time, Gold Dust drew from the opium pipe and drank a steaming infusion of hallucinating herbs to calm the mute clamor in her bones. In her opiated dreams, her mother, naked and without the sprig of mint, cuddled Gold Dust and murmured, “Forgive me for robbing you of your childhood. Don’t do the same to your daughter.”

26

Is it true, my child, that you planned the execution of two men and wanted their hands cut off?” Gold Dust’s tongue was dry in her mouth. What if her daughter parted her lush lips and narrowed eyes that sparkled in her porcelain face and replied that she had done just that? Then Gold Dust could no longer fool herself into believing the eunuch lied, that these were tales the sultanas fabricated out of jealousy, that her daughter was only rebellious. Although she had summoned Raven to hear the truth, now Gold Dust froze under the spell of the scalding embers that were her daughter’s eyes.

Raven’s voice was gentle, even soothing. “Madar, everything you heard is true. Next time I’ll be less lenient.” Leaving the echo of her words behind, she turned on her high heels and left.

Gold Dust’s palm sprang to her chest to hold on to the shreds of her pain. Raven was not at fault. She had not been born like this. The confines of the palace had created her. For too long her only companions were deceptive women, and a father whose every move was calculated to harden and hone his daughter’s mettle to prepare her for some higher mission. Gold Dust had tried but failed to convince the Shah that Raven had ample relentless tenacity and that, if anything, he had to strive to quell her violent nature.

Recalling her dream, Gold Dust decided to follow her mother’s advice and invite a distraction from the outside to remind Raven that although in her own small world she was the king’s daughter, in the scheme of the universe she was only a child.

Gold Dust sent messengers to search for a competent acrobatic troupe and invite them to the harem on the first day of spring, the New Year.

Pearl Hall buzzed with anticipation, with preparation, with a rush that blew life into the seraglio. Large velvet curtains the color of sapphire hung on temporary railings around the hall so the ladies could watch through gauze insets without being seen. Rebekah brought muslin and ribbons of silk so the seamstress could make Raven a special robe. The Shah gave a cluster of pearls the size of pigeon eggs to attach to her cap. The shoemaker made kid boots that laced up to her ankles and accented her small feet.