Moon Face followed the Shah into the gardens. Fresh hope blossomed in her heart. This time she would make sure he noticed her. Then she would entangle him so completely he would never discard her again.

She had prepared meticulously for this outing. After rubbing rice paste on her face and cherry extract on her lips, she had examined herself in the mirror. The contrast of her red mouth to her pale face was feminine and mysterious. The way the Shah liked his women. Stepping back, she had touched her powdered face, bent forward and studied her reflection. No. The Shah’s taste had changed. Had she not noticed Gold Dust’s blushing cheeks, golden eyes, chestnut hair? Plunging her face in a bowl of water, Moon Face had scrubbed until her skin was raw. She painted her cheeks bright, used less kohl on one eye to duplicate Gold Dust’s wandering eye, and tinted her black hair with saffron to give it a lighter tinge. Out of her faded satin pouch, she spread out her tools of passion. Dear Gulf Lily, he had fashioned these gadgets for her, the artificial penis molded after the size of the Shah’s erect member, the incense burner that permeated the room with the calming effects of hashish, the lubricants extracted from the roots of aphrodisiac plants.

The entourage sailed toward the marble pool, on which miniature rowing boats floated. Moon Face searched for the carriage that would transport Gold Dust into the gardens. Why was she absent? Would she join them after they left the pool? Moon Face’s jaw locked in anger at the thought that this excursion might have been planned for a reason other than the Shah’s desire to select a woman. Standing on the skirting of the pool, she watched the Shah slip behind an arabesque. Afraid the water would rinse off her makeup and electing to stand apart from the other women, in order to attract the king’s attention, Moon Face froze into her most alluring pose, the pouch swaying from her bare arm.

The Shah reached out a hand from behind the arabesque. A spray of pearls, their glossy shells luminous in the sunlight, splashed into the water. The sultanas plunged after the pearls—rose above the surface, wet-haired, breathless—naked bodies gleamed, dove back under, searching. The Shah willed his body to respond. In the Cage, the most important lesson the eunuchs had buzzed in his ears was that if his glands were not used regularly they would shrivel, he would lose his hair, and his voice would become squeaky. In fear of an heir rising from the Cage, girls, stripped of their childbearing organs, kept the young prince amused, busy, and obsessed. It was hard to erase the everlasting scars of youth, the beliefs carved in his innermost being. He had not joined a woman for a long time and had not rid himself of the stagnant seeds.