Gold Dust watched the men continue their juggling tricks with ropes, loops, and blazing torches. Objects flew, spun, and hung in the air; goblets full of sherbet swiveled and twirled, never spilling a drop, fashioning a fantastical world that defied all rules of nature. Objects did not fall and shatter; men did not slip and break their bones; animals did not crush human skulls between their jaws; it was a universe where poisons did not exist, where kings did not wrestle to raise their passion, where there were no Bibi Sultanas whose words cut like blades, where your own daughter did not turn into a mesmerizing demon.

Folding the structure, the men prepared for their last act. They constructed a pyramid, each man standing on the shoulders of the men below. The acrobat lifted the bear and like a nimble panther hopped from one shoulder to the other until he had occupied the apex, standing tall and erect, the bear draped like a fur shawl around his shoulders.

The ladies sighed in their opium-induced universe. Gold Dust parted the curtains.

The acrobat saw amber eyes.

He came crashing down.

Gold Dust’s heart became rebellious on that day. The acrobat’s agility, light complexion, and feathered black mask remained suspended in her fantasies. She was thirty years old and had only experienced one man, a man who grew more melancholy with every act of love because despite his belief that human bonds were created and strengthened in bed, he had failed to find them there. For years she had probed the depths of his eyes, searching for the man who had loved Pari. Beyond the surface of his anger, she had discovered only doubt and despair disguised as anger and scorn.

Now she had, at last, met the man in the promise of her mother’s fairy tales.

The need to glimpse under his mask became an obsession. She had to share the ache in her bones. She sent for her mother.

Cursing herself for having encouraged Gold Dust to invite the acrobats, Rebekah listened to words that hacked at the foundation of her dream.

“I’m suffocating in the Shah’s dark eyes, dark skin, dark voice. I’ve forgotten the difference between wrestling and love. He rules an empire, has all the wealth and power in the world, but Raven manipulates him with her small finger.”

Rebekah toyed with one of her daughter’s braids. “And this acrobat? Is he different?”

“I have to find out for myself.”

The relaxed smile on Rebekah’s lips did not betray the turmoil in her heart. She had to think hard so she would not open her mouth and spill words that would drive her daughter into the acrobat’s arms.

“Madar, I’m afraid of Raven. I rarely see the Shah. I miss the outside.”

Rebekah’s violet eyes were calm. She had spent enough time in the intimate company of youth to understand their minds. One word about the dangers her daughter would have to face if she went against the Shah would only propel her into a disaster she would translate as adventure and relief from the confinement of the harem. She must not add the excitement of danger to Gold Dust’s infatuation.