that.
Later, a cool, soothing cream was applied to her flesh. The pain drew nearer, snarling at her like a beast in the darkness.
Then her head was lifted, and some potion was poured onto her tongue. It was vile-tasting stuff, but it drove the dragon away, and soon she floated on a cloud woven of a thousand dawns and sunsets.
She heard Alev’s voice. “Will she live?”
“I’m certain of it,” Rashad responded. “Though I daresay the
sultana valide
will make her wish she hadn’t.”
Inwardly Charlotte flinched, not from fear, but anger. She hadn’t escaped, she was still a prisoner in the palace, but that didn’t mean she would let one mean old woman bully her. She was determined to recover, if only to spite the sultana.
Charlotte was awake a few minutes, then asleep for several hours. When the pain was bad, someone would always give her a dose of medicine and make it stop. Once, she opened her eyes and saw Alev standing over her.
“Your babies?” Charlotte whispered, filled with dread because she sensed that her friend had seldom left her side since Khalif and the others had brought her back to the palace.
But Alev smiled and touched Charlotte’s forehead gently. “My sons are safe and strong,” she said. “Rest now. You will be well soon.”
Charlotte rested, but one day she rallied. She was weak but fully conscious, and when she lifted her arms she saw that they were spotted with new skin.
“My face,” she cried, raising both hands to her cheeks. She was certain the desert sun had baked and melted her into some hideous creature fit only for sideshows and circuses.
Alev was sitting beside her couch, nursing one of the new babies while Pakize tried to placate the other one with a finger. “Your face will be fine in a few weeks, thanks to our almond cream,” Alev said.
Pakize handed Charlotte a small hand mirror with an engraved silver back, and she looked warily into the glass. Her skin had peeled badly, but it was clearly renewing itself.
After moving the greedy baby to her other breast and then modestly covering herself again, Alev arched her eyebrows and asked, “Whyever did you do such a foolish thing, Charlotte? You’re in very serious trouble, you know.”
She closed her eyes and tried to will herself into oblivion again, but it was too late. She was definitely on the mend. “What kind of trouble?” she asked.
Alev leaned forward on her stool and whispered, “You ran away and endangered yourself and others. That is a cardinal sin. And you stole the little flask.”
Charlotte swallowed. Wondering where Patrick was, feeling more certain than ever that he truly had abandoned her. “What will happen to me?”
“You will be punished,” Pakize said, in halting, eager English, and the servant girl seemed to relish the prospect.
“How?” Charlotte demanded, looking at Alev instead of Pakize.
Alev sighed and looked away for a moment. “That will depend,” she finally replied, “on what the
sultana valide
decides is fitting.”
Charlotte decided not to ask any more questions for the time being, because her imagination was already running wild. Maybe she would be boiled in oil, or roasted inside a suit of armor, like some English knights were during the Crusades…
She was still imagining horrible fates when a stir of excitement swept through the harem like a fresh breeze and Khalif himself appeared at her bedside. He did not offer her a smile, but instead glared down at her with as much fury as if he’d had to ride into hell itself to perform the rescue.
“So,” he said briskly, “you are recovering.”
Charlotte managed a faltering smile. “Yes, thanks to you.”
He narrowed his dark eyes at her. “You could have perished,” he said. “What would I have told my friend, Captain Trevarren, if you had not survived?”
She felt a little spindrift of hope swirl up in her middle,even though she was fairly certain she didn’t matter at all to Patrick. After all, he’d
Later, a cool, soothing cream was applied to her flesh. The pain drew nearer, snarling at her like a beast in the darkness.
Then her head was lifted, and some potion was poured onto her tongue. It was vile-tasting stuff, but it drove the dragon away, and soon she floated on a cloud woven of a thousand dawns and sunsets.
She heard Alev’s voice. “Will she live?”
“I’m certain of it,” Rashad responded. “Though I daresay the
sultana valide
will make her wish she hadn’t.”
Inwardly Charlotte flinched, not from fear, but anger. She hadn’t escaped, she was still a prisoner in the palace, but that didn’t mean she would let one mean old woman bully her. She was determined to recover, if only to spite the sultana.
Charlotte was awake a few minutes, then asleep for several hours. When the pain was bad, someone would always give her a dose of medicine and make it stop. Once, she opened her eyes and saw Alev standing over her.
“Your babies?” Charlotte whispered, filled with dread because she sensed that her friend had seldom left her side since Khalif and the others had brought her back to the palace.
But Alev smiled and touched Charlotte’s forehead gently. “My sons are safe and strong,” she said. “Rest now. You will be well soon.”
Charlotte rested, but one day she rallied. She was weak but fully conscious, and when she lifted her arms she saw that they were spotted with new skin.
“My face,” she cried, raising both hands to her cheeks. She was certain the desert sun had baked and melted her into some hideous creature fit only for sideshows and circuses.
Alev was sitting beside her couch, nursing one of the new babies while Pakize tried to placate the other one with a finger. “Your face will be fine in a few weeks, thanks to our almond cream,” Alev said.
Pakize handed Charlotte a small hand mirror with an engraved silver back, and she looked warily into the glass. Her skin had peeled badly, but it was clearly renewing itself.
After moving the greedy baby to her other breast and then modestly covering herself again, Alev arched her eyebrows and asked, “Whyever did you do such a foolish thing, Charlotte? You’re in very serious trouble, you know.”
She closed her eyes and tried to will herself into oblivion again, but it was too late. She was definitely on the mend. “What kind of trouble?” she asked.
Alev leaned forward on her stool and whispered, “You ran away and endangered yourself and others. That is a cardinal sin. And you stole the little flask.”
Charlotte swallowed. Wondering where Patrick was, feeling more certain than ever that he truly had abandoned her. “What will happen to me?”
“You will be punished,” Pakize said, in halting, eager English, and the servant girl seemed to relish the prospect.
“How?” Charlotte demanded, looking at Alev instead of Pakize.
Alev sighed and looked away for a moment. “That will depend,” she finally replied, “on what the
sultana valide
decides is fitting.”
Charlotte decided not to ask any more questions for the time being, because her imagination was already running wild. Maybe she would be boiled in oil, or roasted inside a suit of armor, like some English knights were during the Crusades…
She was still imagining horrible fates when a stir of excitement swept through the harem like a fresh breeze and Khalif himself appeared at her bedside. He did not offer her a smile, but instead glared down at her with as much fury as if he’d had to ride into hell itself to perform the rescue.
“So,” he said briskly, “you are recovering.”
Charlotte managed a faltering smile. “Yes, thanks to you.”
He narrowed his dark eyes at her. “You could have perished,” he said. “What would I have told my friend, Captain Trevarren, if you had not survived?”
She felt a little spindrift of hope swirl up in her middle,even though she was fairly certain she didn’t matter at all to Patrick. After all, he’d
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