Shielding his eyes, the Shah stared at the sky, calculating the position of the sun. Gold Dust had been entertained long enough. He stole from behind the arabesque and started toward the harem, past the hedges, bordering the garden paths, and the plane trees that filtered out the rays of the sun. He came face-to-face with Raven, her nipples imprinted against the sheer fabric of her vest. He growled, “We told you to remain with your mother!”

“The show is almost over. Why didn’t you invite me to the pool?”

“These outings are for the sultanas.”

“Am I not a woman?”

He gazed at her. She had grown tall, almost to his height. Her silver hair bounced on hips that had honed her mother’s sway into perfection. Her breasts challenged the world with rage and defiance. The shadow of her nipples, her parted lips, eternal thirst, and husky voice were proof she had grown to become an exceptional woman. He was furious with her for testing him, with himself for his inability to acknowledge her maturity, and with Gold Dust for becoming incapacitated when he needed her most.

Raven flung her arm around him and led him toward the harem.

The Shah’s steps grew urgent as he approached the ominous silence that shrouded the hall. He threw open the double doors. The velvet curtains were drawn. The acrobat was about to leave. The Shah stared at the lean body, pale eyes, and copper curls. “We had been informed you would bring a cobra and some Giant Man. Did you think you alone could entertain the favorite?”

Soleiman prostrated himself. He struggled to control the tremor of his voice. “My shah, I came alone because I was told the sultana suffers from lethargy. To cure the spirit one must proceed with caution.”

The Shah burst out in his mocking laughter. “Are you an acrobat or a healer of souls? Have you learned this from your Giant Man, or the bear?”

“The soul, my shah, is more fragile than the body. The slightest turbulence can throw it off balance. There are hundreds of reasons why the spirit can lose its wholeness, but only a few known cures.”

“What is the sultana’s spirit suffering from?” Raven asked, her eyes searching the hall.

“Lack of natural light, my princess, sunshine, the essence of life.”

She plucked the sprig of mint from behind her ear and brushed it against her nose. “How, may I ask, did you help her?”

“My princess, I’d never boast of the ability to heal like nature. Since the favorite is not allowed to leave the harem, the next best remedy is entertainment, an opiate of the soul.”

Raven’s lungs felt heavy. The air was stale. Nothing stirred. She could not breathe. She parted the curtains. The impression of her mother’s body lingered on the cushions.