sighed and sagged against the wall behind her. “I know how dangerous my brother is because he once tried to kill me. Promise me that you shall never reveal what I would tell you now, even to the Sultan. The knowledge would destroy him and our family.”
She had not spoken of her secret in years. Yet, the words tumbled forth as though Muhammad’s treachery had happened yesterday instead of fifteen years before. In the weeks before Ismail’s birth, he had poisoned a slave with food that he had also offered Fatima.
Shams pecked at Fatima’s tunic sleeve. “If he would risk such a move against his own sister, he is dangerous.”
Fatima muttered. “I should have told Father.”
“Perhaps the Sultan might have believed you then, but there was always the possibility he would not have done so. You shielded him, as you have protected Nur’s son.”
Nur al-Sabah shook her head, pale golden locks in disarray, as she paced the floor.
“But my son is no threat to the Crown Prince. Nasr, all of my children are the offspring of a slave. The Crown Prince is the future master of Gharnatah. He could not have meant to hurt my son, not my Nasr. They are brothers.”
Fatima frowned. “I share Muhammad’s blood. His mother was mine. Yet, he did not hesitate to strike against me and the son I carried in my womb. I still don’t know why he did it, but I do not doubt he intended my death. I warn both of you, keep your sons away from him. I cannot hide my brother’s treachery from Father any longer. He must learn of it now, of this incident with Nasr and the harm Muhammad poses to the boy.”
A spasm crossed Nur al-Sabah’s face and she stopped pacing. Her hands trembled, as she clasped them together like a supplicant.
“Fatima, no! Please do not say anything to your father, I pray. You saved Nasr from any possible harm. I do not know what would have happened had you not been there. Yet, you were and I am grateful. Now, please, leave it be.”
Fatima gawked in disbelief. “What? You cannot mean that! If Muhammad had eased his grip upon Nasr, he would have died. Why would you hide such a thing from my father?”
The kadin ’s eyes watered. “Fatima, it is over. We have been friends for some years now. I have never asked anything of you before, but I make this request now. Please, forget this day.”
She fled into her bedchamber. Muffled sobs drifted from the room.
Fatima stared in her wake, incredulous. Then she turned to Shams ed-Duna. “I cannot keep such secrets from my father. If I had told him of my suspicions before, perhaps he would have dealt with my brother long ago. When I tell Father about Nasr now, Nur shall have nothing to fear.”
Shams ed-Duna looked at her askance. “Why shouldn’t Nur be afraid of your revelation to the Sultan? Muhammad is the Crown Prince of Gharnatah. Nur al-Sabah is a slave. For now, she shares your father’s confidences and his bed. What shall befall her, when the Sultan breathes his last and your brother succeeds him? Forget Muhammad’s behavior and be grateful that Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful, sent you to intervene before Nasr died.”
“Then, you believe Muhammad would have dropped Nasr into that cistern, as I do?”
Shams pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course, I do. In my time as your father’s wife, I have come to know his family, his children very well. I do not doubt Muhammad would have hurt Nasr if he believed he might escape justice for his crimes.”
“Then, why do you agree with Nur al-Sabah?”
“You invite more harm to your little brother and the kadin by speaking out. Muhammad witnessed Nasr’s return to the palace followed by your own. He knows you must have now warned Nur al-Sabah about him. Your brother is no fool. If you speak to the Sultan, he shall punish Muhammad. The Crown Prince may not rebel against his father, but he shall surely retaliate against Nasr and his mother. Do not endanger them both. The truth
She had not spoken of her secret in years. Yet, the words tumbled forth as though Muhammad’s treachery had happened yesterday instead of fifteen years before. In the weeks before Ismail’s birth, he had poisoned a slave with food that he had also offered Fatima.
Shams pecked at Fatima’s tunic sleeve. “If he would risk such a move against his own sister, he is dangerous.”
Fatima muttered. “I should have told Father.”
“Perhaps the Sultan might have believed you then, but there was always the possibility he would not have done so. You shielded him, as you have protected Nur’s son.”
Nur al-Sabah shook her head, pale golden locks in disarray, as she paced the floor.
“But my son is no threat to the Crown Prince. Nasr, all of my children are the offspring of a slave. The Crown Prince is the future master of Gharnatah. He could not have meant to hurt my son, not my Nasr. They are brothers.”
Fatima frowned. “I share Muhammad’s blood. His mother was mine. Yet, he did not hesitate to strike against me and the son I carried in my womb. I still don’t know why he did it, but I do not doubt he intended my death. I warn both of you, keep your sons away from him. I cannot hide my brother’s treachery from Father any longer. He must learn of it now, of this incident with Nasr and the harm Muhammad poses to the boy.”
A spasm crossed Nur al-Sabah’s face and she stopped pacing. Her hands trembled, as she clasped them together like a supplicant.
“Fatima, no! Please do not say anything to your father, I pray. You saved Nasr from any possible harm. I do not know what would have happened had you not been there. Yet, you were and I am grateful. Now, please, leave it be.”
Fatima gawked in disbelief. “What? You cannot mean that! If Muhammad had eased his grip upon Nasr, he would have died. Why would you hide such a thing from my father?”
The kadin ’s eyes watered. “Fatima, it is over. We have been friends for some years now. I have never asked anything of you before, but I make this request now. Please, forget this day.”
She fled into her bedchamber. Muffled sobs drifted from the room.
Fatima stared in her wake, incredulous. Then she turned to Shams ed-Duna. “I cannot keep such secrets from my father. If I had told him of my suspicions before, perhaps he would have dealt with my brother long ago. When I tell Father about Nasr now, Nur shall have nothing to fear.”
Shams ed-Duna looked at her askance. “Why shouldn’t Nur be afraid of your revelation to the Sultan? Muhammad is the Crown Prince of Gharnatah. Nur al-Sabah is a slave. For now, she shares your father’s confidences and his bed. What shall befall her, when the Sultan breathes his last and your brother succeeds him? Forget Muhammad’s behavior and be grateful that Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful, sent you to intervene before Nasr died.”
“Then, you believe Muhammad would have dropped Nasr into that cistern, as I do?”
Shams pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course, I do. In my time as your father’s wife, I have come to know his family, his children very well. I do not doubt Muhammad would have hurt Nasr if he believed he might escape justice for his crimes.”
“Then, why do you agree with Nur al-Sabah?”
“You invite more harm to your little brother and the kadin by speaking out. Muhammad witnessed Nasr’s return to the palace followed by your own. He knows you must have now warned Nur al-Sabah about him. Your brother is no fool. If you speak to the Sultan, he shall punish Muhammad. The Crown Prince may not rebel against his father, but he shall surely retaliate against Nasr and his mother. Do not endanger them both. The truth
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