But his mind and body clashed with the two women in his life. Who owned his body? Who his mind? Had Raven sowed the germ of desire in him? Had Gold Dust watered it until it sprouted? When had it flowered and the roots burrowed deep? They were with him, around him, in him. He could not free himself from Raven’s constant whispering, her touch, her insistent hands. And from Gold Dust’s melancholy, tearful eyes. He must find diversion, drown himself in work, distance himself from them. He concentrated on Moon Face’s muscular breasts, thick, pointed nipples, lean hips, and the pronounced triangle between her thighs—a sign of passion, the ability to bear boys. She stood out, tall and lanky among the many large-breasted, amply curved sultanas. Like an ugly weed, disturbing the landscape of a rose garden. But he had vague recollections of a past when she had burst upon his bleak life with a host of tricks stashed in her satin pouch.

Moon Face felt the Shah’s stare tingle her body. A pearl between her small teeth sparkled. Her tongue danced, skipping the pearl from her teeth into her mouth, back to the tip of her tongue.

To the Shah, from behind the arabesque, the skin of all the sultanas seemed painted a frosty white, their hair silver and wild scintillated in the sun, and their pink, mischievous eyes blinked against the light.

In Pearl Hall, Rebekah piled cushions and helped Gold Dust recline on them. She could press her eyes to the gauze inset or the slit between the curtains and watch the show, her body concealed behind the screens.

“Stay,” Gold Dust pleaded.

Rebekah tucked a curl behind her daughter’s ear. “I’ll wait by the doors. In case of danger, I’ll carry you out. Don’t part the curtains.” She tiptoed toward the door, wondering why Raven had not appeared.

The groan of partitions and a chain of vehement protests announced Raven’s tardy entrance. Rebekah stepped back into Pearl Hall.

Raven searched for a comfortable place to settle down. “Where are the servants? Why haven’t they arranged my cushions?”

Feigned surprise tainted Rebekah’s face. “I arranged the cushions. I didn’t think you’d miss this day of outing.”

“Pedar left me no choice.”

“Choices are made by us. The secret is to select the least dangerous ones.”

Raven’s eyes flashed. This language she understood, respected, was the reason she admired her grandmother. She adjusted the gold chains that cascaded from her neck and shook the bangles that hiked up her arm.

Rebekah approved of her granddaughter’s exaggerated demonstrations. The princess was frustrated, and the world must heed. “Don’t disobey or ignore your father’s order, alter it to accommodate yourself. Enjoy the outing from a safe distance, and he’ll never know. I’ll stay here and cover for you.”

Raven stifled a chuckle. She would follow the events by the pool. She would keep an eye on her father. And before the end of the acrobat’s performance, she would lead the king to Pearl Hall.