Rebekah started uphill. From a base of alabaster, the edifice rose to greet her—walls and portals of glazed blue and green tiles with cut-glass inlays reflected multifaceted lights, a grand world poised on a vast hill.

Numerous blazing domes of gold and silver crowned the various quarters and houses of the palace. Endless steeples, towers, minarets, and gates marked courtyards, political halls, and entrances to the chambers. Elaborately tiled arches decorated the upper levels. Two towers flanked the grounds. On the right stood the mud-brick Pigeon Tower. Hundreds of pigeons flew in and out of the intricate honeycomb brickwork on its roof. The birds deposited loads of dung, which fed melon fields around the royal hills. On the left rose a massive domed structure, shaded by a high wall—the Ice House. On the coldest nights of winter, streams were diverted from the surrounding mountains into ditches that coursed into pools under the rammed-earth and mud-brick cistern. Throughout the summer, layers of ice were skimmed off the surfaces of the ponds for use in the palace.

Above the palace facade, carved in stone, loomed a basrelief portrayal of the Shah astride a bull, holding the animal’s horns victoriously. There was a regal quality to his stance, his powerful legs hugging the bull; his muscular arms stretched rigidly, the stone fingers clutching the horns. Was this his true likeness? She waved her hands in front of her eyes, pressed them shut. For an instant she saw Gold Dust riding the bull, her flying hair etched into the stone, her triumphant smile carved above the portals.

Rebekah looked around. The Gates of Bliss were etched in gold on a marble arch. This must be the entrance that connected the harem to the outside world. She pinched her cheeks to give them a flushed tinge and coughed to irritate her throat. Her pace slowed, her back slumped, and her breath came out in gasps. She limped toward the guards who flanked the gates like two colossal statues carved out of coal. She crumpled at the feet of one man, her arms curling around his ankles. Her chador spread out like a peacock tail about her generous hips. Startled, the guard knelt, trying to free himself from her grip.

“Honorable Agha, I’ve not eaten for many suns.” She circled her arms around the guard’s neck and raised one knee to his crotch. Her lips nipped the wiry hair on his chest. “I’m so hungry, I could eat you.”

“I’ll get you food,” the guard offered, embarrassed at the stirring in his groin.

“An honest woman needs a source of income, not a single meal. I sell fabrics. Honorable Agha, allow me into the palace.” She untied her bundle and spooled out a silk scarf, draping it around the guard’s neck.

“On your way, woman!” the man roared, grabbing Rebekah around the waist and planting her on her feet. “No one is allowed into the palace, except by invitation.”

“I’ve been invited, sweetlove. The Great Black Eunuch himself invited me.”