The Kadin - Bertrice Small [61]
Cyra’s heart leaped at the entrance of the prince’s messenger. Then, remembering her condition, she dug her fingernails into her palm. Who would it be? Which one would take her place? His eagerness to take a new ikbal seemed rather indecent to her, and she felt a twinge of anger run through her.
The messenger stood before Firousi, who flushed, then whitened. “Most fortunate of maidens, I have the honor to inform you that our master, Prince Selim, may he live a thousand years, requests your presence tonight at the ninth hour.”
“I hear and obey,” replied the blond girl in a shaking voice.
The messenger bowed and left the room Their chatter stilled, the other girls looked from Cyra to Firousi and back again. Sarina broke the silence.
“So, our lord grows tired of green eyes.”
“But not eager for your yellow ones,” snapped Zuleika, squeezing Cyra’s hand hard. “Your tongue is no less sharp than the bee’s sting.”
Cyra broke the tension. “It is not seemly I go to my lord’s couch now that I carry his son beneath my heart”
Breaking into an excited babble, they rushed to crowd about her.
“Stop!” laughed Cyra. “I cannot answer your questions if you all talk at once.” Immediately they were silent “My son will be born in late summer. I did not tell you before because I wanted to be sure. Then our lord had to be told, and he asked that I keep our secret until he returned from Constantinople.”
Firousi began to weep softly, but Cyra placed an arm about her friend’s shoulders.
“I know what you are thinking, dear sister. Don’t Have you forgotten all we have learned?”
“You do not mind?”
“Of course I mind, but it is our fate. Since our lord Selim must take another, I am happy it is you, rather than some devious stranger who would sow dissension in our household.”
“Then you will forgive me my foolishness?”
“It is already forgotten. Would you like to wear my brocade pelisse tonight? It is almost the color of your eyes and will be most flattering. I will have Fekriye take up the hem for you.”
Firousi nodded, and a little smile played on her lips. “I am a donkey,” she said, “but suddenly I was so afraid.”
Cyra took her friend by the hand and led her to a quiet corner of the room, “Let us sit and talk,” she said, settling herself on some pillows. “You must not be frightened, Firousi. There is no need. Selim is the gentlest and most considerate of lords.”
“But you are his wife.”
“I am his ikbal,” admonished Cyra gently. “If Allah wills it I shall be his kadin in five months. Do not I beg you, tell me you have fallen back on your European morality? There is no future in it and it is very foolish of you. With luck, this time next year we shall both be nursing sons, who will grow up together, the dearest of friends, as we are. Was it not you who a year ago in Crete told me there is no return?”
Firousi smiled. “You are right, and I should be rejoicing now. What girl does not envy me or would not change places with me? Come.” She rose and pulled Cyra up with her. “Help me choose what I shall wear tonight You know our master’s taste best of all.” And together they hurried off to Firousi’s small room
“You would think she had been born in the East instead of the West” observed Zuleika softly to Lady Refet
“Her courage is great,” replied the older woman. “She loves my nephew dearly, and this cannot be easy for her.”
Selim chose that moment to visit his harem. Walking in unannounced, he went over to his aunt and kissed her. “Where is Cyra? I have a gift for her.”
Lady Refet spoke to the attending slave. “Fetch Lady Cyra at once. Tell her the prince is here.”
Cyra came quickly, Firousi following. “My dear lord,” she said, bowing low.
“Beloved,” he murmured. His eyes caressed her gently. Then, remembering where he was, he spoke. “I have brought you a gift from Constantinople, my love.” He clapped his hands, and the head eunuch, Ali, ushered in a group