I was carrying food in the harem. My blue-and-white servant's dress, my dark red hair loose with a white bandana tied loosely on my head, and the tray trembling in my hands
I moved forward cautiously. My feet slid silently over the stone floor, and with each step, I had to control my breathing; this place was not only a harem but also a labyrinth where eyes and whispers were razor-sharp.
In the concubine section of the harem, nearly two hundred women were present. They sat on large cushions atop the tables, trays in their hands, looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and subtle cunning. Each gaze pressed down on my shoulders like a weight, sparking both fear and flickers of defiance within me.
A concubine with a curved nose, dark brown hair, and wheat-colored skin leaned toward the girl beside her and whispered or so she thought; her voice carried clearly enough to echo throughout the room:
"Where does she know our Sultan from?"
For a moment, the world seemed to pause. Everyone looked at one another, repeating the words, as if trying to share in a secret.
Another concubine tilted her head slightly and responded in a tone both mocking and curious:
"Yes… where does she know him from? Secretly, mysteriously."
And then, at that moment, a third concubine mustered her courage and shouted, her voice piercing the room like a blade:
"Are you perhaps the Sultan's secret concubine?"
Each word struck my face like a knife. My hands still gripped the tray tightly; my trembling palms and the roaring beat of my heart signaled a storm inside me, while outwardly I appeared merely as a servant.
That was when I realized: this was not just a harem where food was carried. This was a stage for silent yet deadly tests, where every gaze and whisper measured power and status. A hush spread before my eyes; the concubines glanced at one another, the shadow of gossip creeping into every corner of the room. And I, caught in the midst of all this attention and curiosity, existed there with quiet defiance, simply being.
One of the senior attendants suddenly shouted in a sharp, commanding voice:
"Stand up! Lesson time!"
Her voice echoed off the harem's stone walls, shattering the meticulously maintained silence. The woman radiated a stern and intense authority; her presence alone aligned everyone in the room. She wore a long, brown-toned robe cinched tightly at the waist with an iron belt, her raven-black hair tightly coiled into a bun at the back. On her feet were flat shoes, and over her top, a short tunic shirt. With her broad shoulders and pale skin, she resembled a statue of authority.
"Come on! Walk like a lady!"
At her command, the concubines sprang from their places and lined up. The tone of her voice carried such discipline that no one hesitated to quicken their steps. At that moment, it was not merely lesson time—it was a scene where power and fear ruled; every gaze was locked on her, and the harem's atmosphere quivered with tension.
The cloth in my hand slipped across the table, and I rested my head lightly on it, weighed down by exhaustion. The senior attendants were lining up the concubines with sharp and forceful precision. My eyes grew heavy, slowly closing; the cloth slipped loosely from my hand and fell into the bucket, making a faint splash as it sank to the bottom.
At that exact moment, a loud, muffled voice rang out; I quickly opened my eyes. My breath came heavy and fast, and my heart pounded violently from the sudden awakening. I sat up swiftly, aware of every movement around me.
She stood directly in front of me; the concubines and senior attendants had bowed their heads, watching her in silence. She wore a noble dress in elegant shades of ice blue and white, fitted at the waist. Her pale skin glowed in the light; her blue eyes were crystal-clear, deep, and piercing. She was of medium height, one brow slightly raised, her gaze radiating both curiosity and authority.
I glanced quickly at the attendants; all had their heads bowed. I bowed as well, my voice trembling yet respectful:
"Forgive me, my lady."
I did not know who this woman was, but her presence commanded the room; all attention was drawn to her. Within me, both fear and curiosity rose, and I struggled to control my breathing. In that moment, everything seemed to sink into a heavy silence.
The woman cast a sharp glance at the head attendant.
"Who is this? Why have they slacked off? What kind of work is this! Negligence… I can never tolerate it!"
The head attendant bowed quickly, her voice trembling but respectful:
"Forgive me, Menekşe Sultan. Ayçil is never such a person. She was simply exhausted from working so hard… but if you wish, I can administer punishment."
Menekşe Sultan turned to the head attendant; her voice was cold and deep, yet remarkably calm:
"You will, of course, administer the punishment… And who is this, I asked!"
I lowered my head further, murmuring in a quiet voice:
"My Sultan… I have little of a past. I was raised in a small, independent village. My heritage is mixed… I was born in Flower of Paradise . And as punishment, I will not eat dinner."
Menekşe Sultan stepped toward me swiftly; it was forbidden to meet her eyes, as such an act could result in a death sentence. With a single movement, she could flick the hem of her dress to physically demonstrate her warning.
"Very well… If it happens again, you will see the white light."
No sooner had she finished speaking than Menekşe Sultan walked away with rapid steps. Behind her, the concubines were arranged in silent, respectful hierarchy; each seemed to be holding their breath, observing the weight of that moment.
Evening had fallen. In the deep silence of the palace, I slipped quietly onto the balcony. My steps were quick but careful; this was my favorite place, a spot where peace rarely touched.
The wind blew lightly at first, then gradually grew stronger. It tossed my hair; I brought my hands to my head and slowly removed the bandana. When the cold air touched my skin, I felt a shiver run through me.
I took a deep, heavy breath. My stomach growled; I was hungry, but it was worth it. This exhaustion… this life… Every day I paid a price, every day I was tested. Such weariness… yet there was a small piece of peace; perhaps this was my tiniest reward.
Suddenly, a voice echoed behind me. I turned; it was the head of the harem. His face carried a worried expression, his voice trembling:
"Ayçil! I've been looking for you everywhere! Where were you?"
"I'm a little tired, my lord…" I said, in a low whisper, almost muttering to myself.
His eyes scanned me, then he let out a deep sigh. "This place is forbidden… Let's go. You go, too; take the girls their clothes and close the doors of the harem."
As I heard his words, I caught the sound of his steps. He slowly walked away from the balcony, leaving the silence behind.
After handing the girls their clothes, I closed the doors. The servants' room doubled as both a listening post and a sleeping area. I was wearing a simple white nightgown. I laid the sponge on the floor, pulled the blanket up to my chin, and quickly closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.
At midnight, a sudden, piercing scream jolted me awake.
"Ayçil!" The whisper was shaky but sharp. All the servants were awake.
"What happened?" I mumbled sleepily, my eyes still half-closed.
"A handmaiden is missing!" An elderly woman stepped forward, worry etched across her face.
I sat up in bed and looked toward the servants. "What happened?"
The elderly woman approached me, while the other servant girls listened with rapt attention. "One of the handmaids… has been brutally murdered. Several of her limbs are missing…"
"Who did this?" I asked, my voice trembling, filled with intense curiosity.
The servants' eyes widened in horror, and silence fell. "We don't know… we'll find out tomorrow…"
The early hours of morning were still dark—around 4 a.m. The harem workers had been lined up in the corridor for questioning. I wore a black servant's dress with straight sleeves puffed at the shoulders, my hair tightly bound; a few strands hung loose in the front. The corridor seemed even more intimidating, amplified by the echo of our footsteps.
The atmosphere was silent; everyone glanced at each other hesitantly, their trembling breaths echoing. It was our turn, and at that moment, the tension inside everyone was reflected in our eyes.
Hasodabaşı stood before us like a shadow; his face stern, nose in the air, despite his young age, every gesture radiating authority. His dark skin, angular facial features, and brown kaftan made him both intimidating and cold.
"Yes, now that everyone is here…" he said, his voice echoing against the corridor walls. "Five hours ago, one of the handmaids was brutally mutilated; half of her body was torn apart, some limbs are missing… I will question each of you immediately."
Everyone looked at one another, their eyes filled with fear and astonishment. When it was my turn, all eyes turned toward me.
"I… was sleeping," I said, my voice flat and monotone.
Hasodabaşı stared at me for a long moment, scrutinizing me with interrogating eyes, measuring every move I made.
"Where were you before sleeping?" he asked, his voice harsh but carrying a cold curiosity.
Just then, the harem aga intervened, softening the corridor slightly with his tone:
"She was on the palace balcony. She's new among us; how would she know?"
Hasodabaşı squinted and replied sharply:
"You probably didn't know it was forbidden to go there."
"I didn't know it was forbidden. If I had, I wouldn't have gone… I apologize," I said, tired, trembling, but with a firm tone.
Elvin kalfa whispered, intervening:
"Yes, Hasodabaşı… how could this girl have known?"
Silence fell over the corridor, but whispers slowly began to spread. Everyone was looking at me, their eyes a mix of curiosity and slight disgust. Inside me, both fear and anger were rising; it was almost hard to breathe.
Hasodabaşı sharply raised his finger. The large ring with a gemstone caught the light and gleamed. His gaze swept along the corridor, scanning everyone with piercing scrutiny.
"It's not over yet," he said in a deep, resonant voice, echoing off the walls, "but I will find this killer… If the culprit is one of you, I will tear you apart alive, just like that girl!"
The weight of his words made the air in the corridor feel frozen. Everyone was holding their breath, staring at Hasodabaşı in fear. My heart pounded so fast in my chest that I could almost hear my own breathing. My hands were trembling; my eyes scanned the other girls' faces, trying to catch their horror.
It was early morning, and the palace's stone corridors were icy and silent. I gripped the bucket in my hand and the water-soaked rag inside it tightly; my fingers had turned purple from the cold and the weight of the water. I began mopping the stairs; a few other girls around me were working in the same rhythm. Every step made the wood creak, and the wind's sound echoed through the windows.
Just then, Elvin Kalfa approached, wearing a mocking smile, and handed me a tray.
"Come on then, this little one has God's favor. Take this tray and bring it to the sultan."
I took the tray; its cold metal brushed against my hands. Squinting, I looked at her:
"I've never been to the sultan's room… So why am I going?"
Elvin Kalfa said the two girls coming behind me would be joining me, her voice dripping with sarcasm:
"I don't know… They're also going to leave the sultan's comfortable clothes. You're not going alone, unfortunately."
She laughed as she spoke, and the other servants behind us looked on with quiet chuckles. Anger rose within me, but I quickened my steps.
"Divine Elvin…" said one of the aghas, with a mocking glance.
"Divine, really?!" I muttered, wrinkling my face, my heart pounding rapidly.
Elvin Kalfa, with one final move, shouted sharply:
"Walk! Don't keep the sultan waiting!"
And I, hands trembling, gripped the tray and began walking through the stone corridors with quiet but precise steps. Each step stole my breath, my heart pounding hard; my eyes focused on the two girls in front of me, while my mind was fixed on the sultan waiting in the palace's mysterious room.
When I entered the room, my eyes widened instantly. A large, pure white carpet was spread across the floor; in the center of the room stood a huge, ornate bed. Every corner was adorned with golden decorations and delicate embroidery. Light streamed softly through the windows, illuminating every object in the room with a gentle shimmer.
The sultan sat in a heavy chair in the corner of the room. Papers were in his hand, his gaze serious and focused; every movement he made intensified the silence in the room.
I tried to quickly place the tray on the table, but in a moment of distraction, it wobbled slightly and some of the coffee spilled onto the floor. The aroma and the sound of the hot coffee spreading across the floor suddenly shattered the stillness of the room.
My heart suddenly raced, my hands trembled; my breath caught. The sultan lifted his head, and his eyes fixed directly on me. In that moment, all the decorations in the room, the large bed, and the white carpet seemed to fade into the background. There was only one thing: the sultan's gaze… and me.
The servant girl bowed her head toward me, her whisper sending shivers down my spine:
"What did you do? Can't you do anything right… you keep making mistakes."
I felt as if my breath had been stolen. I didn't utter a word; my eyes darted away. The rag in my hand trembled; with each stroke across the cold floor, fear and shame surged inside me at once. My heart pounded as if it would burst from my chest, and pain and tension intertwined with every grip of my fingers on the cloth.
A deep silence fell over the room. Then the sultan's deep, sharp voice echoed:
"Everyone out."
Footsteps receded behind the door, leaving only my trembling heart and hands. I kept my head bowed, unable to summon the courage to lift my eyes. The silence was so heavy that even breathing felt difficult.
Then… a firm command cut through the air as if it could split the room itself:
"You… stay."
"Come, approach," said the sultan. My breath caught; each step forward felt heavy, a storm of fear and curiosity churning within me.
"Come a little closer."
There was a tone in his voice; the ease of command, yet an authority that could not be questioned… My heart pounded as I stepped forward.
"Come a little closer."
My feet moved almost of their own will. The silence of the carpet beneath my feet and the heavy air in the room made each breath feel stifled.
I bent slightly and whispered, my voice trembling:
"Your Majesty… I cannot come too close. There are… illnesses, and you… you are the sultan, it would be inappropriate…"
But before I could finish, the sultan's voice echoed with that soft yet sharp authority:
"I command you!"
Time seemed to stop. That calm yet absolute tone broke all my resistance, filling me with both fear and awe. My feet felt glued to the floor, my breathing uneven, my hands trembling. His gaze was fixed on me; in it was obedience and power, and I took one more step, fully aware that there was no turning back…
I came right up to him. Suddenly, he gripped my waist firmly and pulled me toward his chest; I felt as if I were sitting in his arms. My heart raced, and my breath became irregular.
His arm wrapped around my waist, his fingers tracing a rhythm along my back; each touch both frightened me and, strangely, gave me a sense of security. His other hand slowly moved toward my face; it brushed my lips, and his thumb traced over them.
"You… you are… the girl who saved me. These red hair of yours, your scent… I can never forget… I fell into the river, and you saved me… Do you remember?"
His words came slowly, hesitating, like a drunk melody, filled with both fragility and intense emotion. Each word echoed in my mind, stirring a strange confusion in my heart fear, astonishment, and an odd sense of closeness all at once.
My eyes locked onto his; the shadow of the past and the tension of the present intertwined in our gaze. Time seemed to stop, and the silence in the room was filled only by our breaths.
Suddenly, I stood up, my heart pounding as if it would burst from my chest. My voice trembled, but my eyes remained fixed on him with courage as I began to speak:
"Yes… I remember. The servants threw you into the river… but-"
The words caught in my throat; even swallowing was difficult. I took a deep breath and continued, my voice now sharper:
"-but do you always act this way toward anyone who saves you?"
My words cut through the silence of the room like a dagger. Just as I was about to step back, my wrist was suddenly caught with iron-like strength. My escape was abruptly halted.
His gaze was dark and insistent; it pulled me toward him, and I couldn't resist his power. I fell into his arms again, trapped against his chest. I could feel his breath against my neck warm, yet strangely chilling in its closeness.
His fingers gripped my wrist tightly, while his other hand wrapped around my waist. His eyes locked onto mine, his voice softer this time, but carrying a strange certainty:
"You… are someone else."
The words felt both like a verdict and a confession.
As the door cracked open, my breath caught in my throat. I had bolted from the sultan's side, teetering with the tray in my hands, only to come face-to-face with Menekşe Sultan, standing with all her grandeur. Her sharp gaze stabbed into me like a heavy sword.
"Bring us tea, hatun," she said. Her voice was icy, yet the authority behind it hit me like a slap to the face.
I took a deep breath and bowed my head.
"Of course, sultan," I whispered, my voice nearly fading into a hushed murmur.
As I turned, I felt my knees trembling. Walking to the kitchen felt like traversing an endless corridor. I filled the tea cups with shaking hands, the steam brushing against my face as my heart pounded against my ribs. I arranged the cups carefully on the tray; each one delicate as crystal, ready to shatter if dropped… much like my heart at that moment.
I gently knocked on the door and stepped inside. The Sultan and Menekşe Sultan… both were in the same room. I extended the tray of tea; they each took their cup with composed grace. But as I retreated to a corner, eyes on the floor, ears straining to catch every word, a storm brewed within me.
The Sultan turned to Menekşe, smiling. The softness in his eyes was undeniable, yet, in that instant, he glanced at me as well. My chest tightened.
"Menekşe… how was your day?" he asked, his voice deep yet calm, almost comforting.
Menekşe Sultan's face lit up immediately; her eyes sparkled. A small, subtle smile formed at the corner of her lips.
"Thanks to you, my day has been very pleasant," she said, her gaze shining as it met the Sultan's.
He nodded slightly, a hidden smile tugging at the edge of his lips. But there I stood, in the corner, feeling like an unnecessary shadow in this moment, a secret too conspicuous to be ignored.
"I'm glad… You may leave after finishing your tea. I'm tired," the Sultan said, leaning back. His black hair caught the light like threads of silver.
Menekşe Sultan inclined her head gracefully. With the faintest of smiles, she said, "You rest… then I shall go," and walked out of the room with measured, heavy steps. She left behind a profound silence.
In that silence, the Sultan's eyes turned to me. One of his eyebrows lifted slightly.
"…Why did you get up from me all of a sudden?" His voice carried both curiosity and a hint of reproach.
My throat tightened. No sound came out. I didn't know… I truly didn't know. It was as if putting the storm inside me into words was impossible. I wanted to do my task and leave but even I couldn't understand why I had run.
The Sultan rose with heavy steps. Each one struck my heart like a hammer. Slowly, he approached me. Under the weight of those blue eyes fixed on mine, I struggled to breathe.
"Why are you silent?" he asked, his voice a low, commanding whisper.
I took a step back. My hands trembled.
"It… it would be improper… I can't!" I said, my lips barely managing to form the words of protest.
At that moment, as his hand moved closer to my chin… the door burst open with a loud noise!
A woman. Middle-aged. She wore a dazzling, radiant gown that caught the light as soon as she stepped into the room. Her sharp gaze pinned us in place.
The room instantly froze. I stood paralyzed. The Sultan's hand hovered in the air, just inches from my chin.
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