He mixed a purgative blend of powder of magnesium, castor oil, and sulfate of sudd to purge the favorite’s bowels. The week after, he ordered permanganate baths and a hard scrub with clay soap and ashes to destroy the malicious elements that had found their way onto her skin and multiplied there. On the third week, he gave the sultana a bowl of a strong purgative, the stink of which sent Honey running from the chamber.

Rebekah grabbed the hakim by the collar and shouted, “You are killing her! She has coughed, teared, and sweated out every last drop of her life!”

The hakim pounded the floor with his cane, his stringy beard shaking. “I can’t do any better when I’m not allowed to examine her properly. Look at your daughter! She’s cloaked from head to toe as if she were shrouded for burial. If a hakim is not a mahram and a confidant of the harem, who is? Do I have to cut off my member before I examine her?”

Rebekah clung to his sleeve. “Don’t give up. There’s no other doctor left in the empire.”

“Go tell the Shah,” the hakim shouted, “that I’m a Jew, and like all other persecuted Jews, I’ve long lost my manhood!”

In the Hall of Ceremonies, stifled by heavy drapes the color of blood, Rebekah waited at the threshold. On a dais, in the center of the room, Raven sat on a high-backed throne, layers of peach muslin tumbling down her shoulders. A snake of gold with ruby eyes twisted around her bare arm. The king, wearing a cape of royal blue trimmed with silver braids, stood next to her.

Since the day her daughter had returned from war and now that Narcissus was incapacitated, the Shah depended on Rebekah’s daily visits to take care of his favorite and to bring the truth and outside gossip to him.

The Shah motioned Rebekah to approach. She glided to him with a sway that sent soft ripples into her chador. Although the veil fell loosely over her head and covered part of her hair, her face was exposed, and she still enjoyed the look of embarrassment men exhibited at her presence.

She cast her eyes down but did not prostrate herself. “My shah, please allow Gold Dust to be examined properly by the hakim without her hampering attire.”

The Shah stabbed the air with his finger. “No stranger will set eyes on the naked body of our favorite.”

With a flurry of fabrics, Raven descended from her throne. Sparks of anger colored her cheeks. Her father behaved like a lovesick adolescent. Why was he protective of her mother? Why did it matter if another man saw her naked? “Your favorite’s body doesn’t resemble a woman’s,” her voice of velvet reminded. “It has disintegrated. It will arouse only pity in a man.”

Rebekah watched this child-woman, who had never been a child, and who defied age, slither a hand down her neck; a red fingernail outlined the mature cleave of her breasts. The golden snake flickered in the light; the jeweled eyes winked in conspiracy.