Free Adora by Bertrice Small Page B

Theadora last he had not been sure she would survive the night. But the ravaged creature of the night before bore no resemblance whatever to the young woman he now faced. And for the first time in his life, Ali Yahya understood the true meaning of the word “royal”.
    Theadora had caused a small throne to be set upon a raised dais, and she received Ali Yahya there. Her long dark hair had been plaited into two braids, and looped on either side of her head. Her clothing was all silk, in shades of Persian blues and sea green. She wore no jewelry, for she had none.
    The amethyst eyes looked gravely at the eunuch. Abashed, he bowed low, and was rewarded by a faint smile. She raised her hand in a regal gesture of dismissal to her slaves.
    Alone with Ali Yahya she said quietly, “Tell my husband that if there should ever be a repeat of last night, I will inform my father, Emperor John. I am aware of my duties, and will produce a child as quickly as nature will allow. But the sultan must come to me alone in future, and accept my lack of experience as any Christian husband would do—with delight at that proof of my innocence.
    “If he wanted me experienced in the arts of love, he should have had me tutored. I was available. I am not newly arrived in this land.
    “I request of you teachers who can help me overcome my ignorance. For now, perhaps, the sultan will find it amusing to tutor me himself. It should be quite a novelty for him.”
    The chief eunuch swallowed his surprise. “I will do what I can to plead your case, Highness,” he said gravely.
    “I know you will, Ali Yahya. You alone of those I have met since entering here yesterday have remembered my position. I will certainly not forget your kindness. Thank you for coming.”
    He turned to go, but she spoke again. “I had almost forgotten. Please arrange for Iris and me to visit the slave markets of the city tomorrow.”
    “If you need more servants I shall be glad to supply them, Highness.”
    “I need my own servants, Ali Yahya. Not spies. I will people my household with my own slaves, not those in the pay of the lady Anastatia or the lady Nilufer, or whoever is my husband’s latest favorite. Or you, for that matter. Do I make myself clear, Ali Yahya?”
    He nodded. “It will be as you wish, Highness,” be said, and hurried off to seek his master.
    He found the sultan in the company of one of his new favorites, a blond Circassian named Mihrimah. The girl was a credit to her harem schooling, a veritable model of good manners, total obedience, and advanced sexual training. Ali Yahya watched impassively as Mihrimah took a sweetmeat delicately between her lips and offered it to her eager master. The eunuch marveled that a man of the sultan’s years could still be so quickly aroused and perform so well. Disregarding his servant’s presence, Orkhan mounted the slavegirl, driving her to a sobbing surrender.
    His hot lust sated, he looked to the eunuch. By a flick of an eyelid, Ali Yahya asked dismissal of the girl. Orkhan shoved Mihrimah with his foot. “Go!” She obeyed instantly, getting to her feet and running from the room. “Speak, Ali Yahya. What is it?”
    The eunuch fell to the floor and, taking the sultan’s foot, placed it on his bowed head. “I have erred, my lord. I have erred in judgement, and I beg that you forgive me.”
    Orkhan was intrigued. Ali Yahya had been his slave for some twenty-five years. He had held his office as chief of the white eunuchs for the last fifteen. His judgements had always been cool, impersonal, and correct. Never before had he asked forgiveness. “What is it, my old friend?” asked Orkhan kindly.
    “It is the princess Theadora, sire. I have been wrong about the girl, and so have your wives. She is innocent of any intrigue to better herself. I knew it last night, but it was too late to stop—” He hesitated, allowing the sultan time to reconstruct the events of the previous evening. “This morning,” continued the