His gaze prodded her darkness. His mouth embraced her, freed her, then suckled her again and again, his tongue lapping at her escalating passion, his nostrils devouring her salty aroma. He held her waist to anchor her shuddering body, and he drank and drank.

Lifting her in his arms, he set her on the divan.

She parted her thighs for him. He must come into her juices, which would assure a favorable environment for the survival of his male seeds.

He wet his penis in her mouth, then guided it into her firm grip, struggling to contain himself until he seized her virginity. His fluids mingled with her blood, her passion, his seeds, their impending tomorrow.

“Promise, you are only mine,” she whispered.

“Only yours.”

17

They surrounded Gold Dust in the baths, examined her abdomen, pinched her buttocks, and squeezed her waist. Her walk, her pointed stomach, and her luminescent eyes were ample proof she carried the Shah’s son. The fruit of such intense passion could only be male. Since Pari, Gold Dust was the only sultana who had sustained the king’s passion even after she had given herself to him and even as she grew with child. The women suffered a fresh threat. If Gold Dust gave birth to a son, the Shah would take her as his legal wife and pronounce her queen. When the heir to the throne reached the age of puberty, Gold Dust would weed the harem of sultanas who became pregnant, or powerful. She would choose her own entourage to replace the discarded sultanas who would rot in the House of Tears.

The Bibi Sultana’s eunuch requested an urgent meeting in the privacy of the gardens. “We’ll crush the bark of the tali tree in the favorite’s food.”

The Bibi held on to the branch of a weeping willow, took a deep breath, and slapped him with all the force of her plump hand. “I’ll stuff the bark down your own throat.” Not that she liked that arrogant Jewish pauper. But the girl had succeeded to mesmerize her son so completely he seemed to have abandoned Hazel-Boy, at last. Enough reason to support her until she, the Bibi, came up with a discreet plan to eliminate Hazel-Boy. Did her son think he would produce heirs with that half-man?

When word got around that Honey and Hazel-Boy roamed about with sharpened eyes and ears and threatened to go to the Shah, the sultanas moved their conspiracy to the gardens, under the cloak of darkness, bushes, and maple trees, behind fountains that smothered sounds. The harem lost its tongue but not its rage.

While Gold Dust passed her days and nights under the influence of calming herbs, Moon Face summoned Gulf Lily to the House of Tears to discuss ways to terminate Gold Dust’s pregnancy.

“Ground glass in coffee,” Moon Face whispered. “She’ll bleed internally. There’s no antidote for it.”