Gold Dust plunged into a nightmare. She controlled the urge to seek her mother’s hand. She saw the boy’s extremities stretch to the limit, his body vibrating like a bowstring. The soles of her feet burned. Each blow seemed to vibrate in her marrow. She was not sure whether the whimper she heard originated from her or from the boy.

The assistant repeated in a monotonous voice, “All ye boys observe and learn! All ye boys observe and learn!”

Rebekah nudged the guide. “Sweetlove, what did the poor soul do?”

“Newcomers are subjected to the bastinado as a way of discipline and for others to watch and learn.”

When the boy’s shrieks turned into sobs, Narcissus ordered him taken away.

A group of eunuchs, their torsos naked, awaited their turn for inspection. Narcissus checked the crotch of each eunuch. When he reached the last one in line, Narcissus stopped. His hand slipped back and forth between the eunuch’s legs. A finger traced a slight bulge there. His hand plunged inside the alarmed man’s waistband and into his pants.

Narcissus turned to his assistant: “He has become a man again! Recastrate him.”

Gold Dust made up her mind. She would not stay in this strange place. She rose on her toes and whispered, “I’m leaving.”

Rebekah’s arm circled her daughter’s waist. “This is the dark side of the palace. You’ll never see it again. Wait until we get to the harem. You won’t believe the beauty.”

Gold Dust didn’t care for the beauty, the Shah, and the fat, beardless man who flogged boys. The injustice of her mother forcing her into this world. She asked, “Do you love me?”

Startled, Rebekah stole her gaze away from her daughter. What was she supposed to answer to this simple question? That her love was so great it had been transformed into a madness that fueled her life, that her love had churned into a rage that was the source of her vigor, a love so immense she would suffer the pain of separation? “Hush, child!” she whispered as Narcissus shuffled toward them. “Bad things happen even in heaven.”

Gold Dust pursed her lips. Another time, she would repeat her question and demand a satisfying answer.

The eunuch surveyed Rebekah’s full-figured allure, then gazed suspiciously at Gold Dust’s bare face. “Why are you here so early?”

Rebekah brushed her veil off her head, but kept the gauze that draped her lower face. “With your permission, I brought my daughter, Gold Dust, for your inspection.”

“What permission!” he croaked, stamping his legs in anger. “I never gave any.”

Good. Gold Dust inhaled deeply. Did he think she was dying to enter this prison? She had to escape before he tied her up and flogged her, before her mother left her, before the drumming of her heart punctured her ears. She searched for an exit. “Madar, I’m going.”

“My apologies,” Rebekah cooed, grabbing the back of Gold Dust’s skirt and stopping her in her place, “I took the liberty on my own. Would you please me by considering her as part of the harem?”