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to any young virgin, but,” she lowered her voice, “the sultan has brutalized my little mistress. And what is worse, she must endure the same treatment for the next three nights! Why? What has this child done that he would hurt her so?”
    “It is not your place to question, woman.”
    “If I am to keep the girl alive I must know
all
, Ali Yahya.”
    “The sultan was angry at the princess. He thought she had induced her father to force compliance of the marriage contract and, thus, better her position. I believed that possible until I met the princess. There is no guile in her. And the two wives, Anastatia and Nilufer, have encouraged the sultan’s anger toward the princess. They are fearful of a third wife.”
    “My princess is like a delicate flower, eunuch. You must convince the sultan to treat her gently these next few nights. If she goes mad and dies, to what purpose is this cruelty? Do you think the emperor will award your lord the remainder of my lady’s dowry when he learns what has happened to his favorite daughter? The Byzantine may have used the girl to his political advantage, but she is still his child, and he does love her.”
    Ali Yahya nodded. “You are right, woman. I will see that the sultan’s heart is softened toward the princess. But you
must
see that the girl lives.” Without another word he turned on his heel and left.
    Iris waited until the doors had closed behind him. Then she ran across the room into Theadora’s bedchamber. The girl lay on her back, barely breathing. She made no sound, but her beautiful face was wet with tears. Iris drew a stool up to the bedside and sat down. “Tell me what you are thinking,” she asked.
    “I think that the humblest beast in the field is more fortunate than I,” came the soft reply.
    “Do you wish to die, my princess?”
    “
Die?
” The girl sat up. “
Die?
” She laughed bitterly. “No, Iris. I do not want to die. I would live to avenge this insult! How
dare
the sultan take me as he would some savage barbarian? I am Theadora Cantacuzene, a princess of Byzantium!” Her voice was bordering on hysteria.
    “Hush, my princess. Remember?” And Iris pointed to her ears.
    Theadora instantly grew silent. The slavewoman rose and poured out a goblet of rich red Cyprus wine. She added a pinch of herbs to it and handed it to her mistress. “I have put a sleeping draught in the wine, my princess. You must get a good night’s rest if you are to face tomorrow with wisdom and courage.”
    The girl drained the goblet. “See that I am awakened by midday, Iris,” she said, and lay back down to sleep. The slave crept from the room. But Theadora’s amethyst eyes remained open and focused on the ceiling. She was calmer now, the worst of the shock having worn off. But she would never forget the insult.
    Her innocent dalliance with Prince Murad had led her to believe that what happened between a man and a woman was always sweet. Her husband had robbed her of a perfect wedding night, but never again would she allow herself to be treated as she had been treated tonight. If her father—curse him!—wanted her to bear Orkhan a son, then she would do so. But she would make her husband regret this night.
    He would desire her above all women, and when she had obtained his desire…she would refuse him.
    When her jaded husband finally groveled at her feet for her favors—and he would—she would dole them out sparingly or refuse them, as her whim dictated.
    Theadora now began to relax and allowed the sleeping potion to take hold of her. When Iris looked in later, the princess was asleep.

Chapter Five
    Ali Yahya was in serious danger of losing his dignity. He gaped at the child before him, and she repeated in her piping voice, “My mistress, Princess Theadora, commands your immediate presence, sir. You are to come with me.” Tugging on the fat hand, the little girl led the amazed chief eunuch down the hall to Theadora’s apartments.
    When Ali Yahya had seen