“Talk to us!” the Shah ordered.

“You are tired, my lord.”

The Shah seized the eunuch’s arm. “Our orders have gone out. At dawn, the bowstring will slash her throat. Our last respect a quiet burial in our rose garden.”

“And what will the princess think? The favorite is her mother.” Hazel-Boy’s arm did not flinch in the Shah’s clutch.

“We will raise Raven on our own. As is befitting the mother of kings.”

Sadness swept over the eunuch. Was this all the compassion the king could muster for his favorite? A swift death by the bowstring, a dignified death, an eternal home next to his beloved roses? It was hopeless. There was no retrieving the order, no time to go to the Bibi Sultana. He must warn Rebekah before dawn. He shifted about with light steps, arranging the covers around the Shah. Hazel-Boy felt the shock of the king’s stare on the length of his naked body. He relaxed his muscles. Stroking the Shah’s forehead, he felt the beat of his arteries. “My king, you have a fever. Allow me to pour your nightcap.”

Hazel-Boy stepped into his silk garments, locked the chain around his neck, and mixed a brew from the roots of the eucalyptus tree and wild berries. Turning his back to the king, he added from his silver bottle six drops of the nectar of poppy seeds. The Shah would sleep deeply through the next day.

Hazel-Boy slipped out into the Secret Passage and sped through the labyrinth of damp corridors. How could the Shah end Gold Dust’s life because she had fallen in love? Had he not shared his king with hundreds of sultanas and rejoiced at his pleasure? But he was only a half-man. Did true men react differently? What about women? How did Gold Dust and the other sultanas feel about sharing the Shah? And Honey? She was like him, half-woman, half-man, desiring other women, weeping when a lover was indifferent, but having the generosity to forgive. Honey! She was the only one he could trust in the harem. He would seek her help before he hurried to the Jewish Quarter.

The guards at the inner entrance made way for the lover of the Shah and the confidant of the sultanas. He took the halls to the harem and entered the sleeping quarters of the sultanas. Honey’s bedroom was at the end of the corridor, another ruse of the eunuchs to keep her far from other women.

He approached her pallet and laid his hand on her shoulder.

She sprang up, the black tear at the corner of her eye wet with her dreams. He pressed his hand on her mouth. “The Shah found out about Gold Dust.”

Her teeth punctured his palm; her lids fluttered like miniature wings.

“At dawn, the bowman will go to her. Warn her! Tell her to leave her quarters and wait for me in the Secret Passage. Spend the rest of the night in her room. Don’t fall asleep. Stall. Deceive the executioner. Steer him toward the gardens.”