Read Online The Venetian Contract by Marina Fiorato - Free Book Online
Authors: Marina Fiorato
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return to the Harem, but as
Kadim
to the Sultan.’ He could not meet her eyes.
The blood beat in Feyra’s head. A thousand emotions crowded her brain and the overriding one was anger. All the effort that she had gone to, day after day since she reached adulthood, had been for nothing.
The Sultan had seen through the veils.
To repeat her mother’s history would be dreadful enough, but Feyra’s fate was worse: she would be wived to her brother, an offence against nature as well as womanhood. She grasped the hand that held her cheek. ‘No, Father,’ she said firmly, and then softened her voice for an appeal. ‘You will not let it happen, will you?’
He relaxed, and met her eyes now, as the answer was revealed to him. His fealty to the Sultan had been given in exchange for this dearest of daughters. If he was to lose Feyra anyway, what use was his fealty or his life? He would not go on this fool’s errand. He would take Feyra, take the ship without its cargo, and sail away, anywhere, where the Sultan could not follow him.
Perhaps they would go to Paros, a place that would always be paradise to him. He could still smell the lemon trees as he had swept past on that warm night when he had ridden after beautiful Cecilia Baffo, down to the sea. It had thrilled him that she was faster than he. He saw her now, turning back, laughing at him, terrified and adventurous and sick with love all at once.
He looked down at the face that he now held, a matchlessface that he rarely saw uncovered. Feyra, so like her mother, yet so unlike her. On the hand that held his, he recognized Cecilia’s ring. There was so much for him to ask, and so much for her to tell; but there was no time. ‘I cannot let you go. Get your things. We must go now, before sundown.’
Feyra stood and fetched her cloak and buckled on her medicine belt. It was the work of a moment. ‘Ready,’ she said. There was no need to cover herself tonight, to apply those painstaking, useless disguises. She looked at her father and they shared a rare smile.
Timurhan opened the door and their smiles died.
Outside the door, blocking the dying light with his massive bulk, was the Kizlar Agha.
‘Captain Yunus Murad,’ he said in his strangely high voice, ‘I am to escort you to your ship where your crew awaits you. Lady –’ he turned to Feyra. ‘Take your rest. My deputies will guard your door and take you to the Harem at dawn.’
There was nothing for Feyra to do but say her farewells, to press her cheek to her father’s so hard that their tears mingled, and to wave and wave until he and the Kizlar Agha had turned the corner. She managed to stand until he was out of sight, then collapsed at the feet of the guards on to the pavings before her door.
The pavings where she’d once spun a top.
Chapter 6
F eyra lay in the dark, twisting the crystal ring.
She was no longer racked by indecision; she knew exactly what to do. She was merely waiting for her moment. She waited, and she twisted the circle on her finger, as if counting down the heartbeats until she could act.
The ring had only been hers for four hours and yet it already felt like part of her. She would twist the crystal band a quarter-turn so each time a different horse was uppermost – black horse, white horse, red horse, pale horse. She wondered if she shared the habit with her mother.
Her mother.
Nur Banu had been a mother to Feyra in all but name. She would grieve for her, yes, when the shock was past; but she had no need to place their relationship in a different perspective. There was love and respect given and received, embraces, encouragement, hours of time spent in each other’s company; more than any other daughter could expect. Feyra did not torture herself with things unsaid. All needful things had been told in those last awful hours, and the rest unspoken in the twenty years before them. Feyra’s one regret was that her mother had not been able to say more about the horsemen. About
Kadim
to the Sultan.’ He could not meet her eyes.
The blood beat in Feyra’s head. A thousand emotions crowded her brain and the overriding one was anger. All the effort that she had gone to, day after day since she reached adulthood, had been for nothing.
The Sultan had seen through the veils.
To repeat her mother’s history would be dreadful enough, but Feyra’s fate was worse: she would be wived to her brother, an offence against nature as well as womanhood. She grasped the hand that held her cheek. ‘No, Father,’ she said firmly, and then softened her voice for an appeal. ‘You will not let it happen, will you?’
He relaxed, and met her eyes now, as the answer was revealed to him. His fealty to the Sultan had been given in exchange for this dearest of daughters. If he was to lose Feyra anyway, what use was his fealty or his life? He would not go on this fool’s errand. He would take Feyra, take the ship without its cargo, and sail away, anywhere, where the Sultan could not follow him.
Perhaps they would go to Paros, a place that would always be paradise to him. He could still smell the lemon trees as he had swept past on that warm night when he had ridden after beautiful Cecilia Baffo, down to the sea. It had thrilled him that she was faster than he. He saw her now, turning back, laughing at him, terrified and adventurous and sick with love all at once.
He looked down at the face that he now held, a matchlessface that he rarely saw uncovered. Feyra, so like her mother, yet so unlike her. On the hand that held his, he recognized Cecilia’s ring. There was so much for him to ask, and so much for her to tell; but there was no time. ‘I cannot let you go. Get your things. We must go now, before sundown.’
Feyra stood and fetched her cloak and buckled on her medicine belt. It was the work of a moment. ‘Ready,’ she said. There was no need to cover herself tonight, to apply those painstaking, useless disguises. She looked at her father and they shared a rare smile.
Timurhan opened the door and their smiles died.
Outside the door, blocking the dying light with his massive bulk, was the Kizlar Agha.
‘Captain Yunus Murad,’ he said in his strangely high voice, ‘I am to escort you to your ship where your crew awaits you. Lady –’ he turned to Feyra. ‘Take your rest. My deputies will guard your door and take you to the Harem at dawn.’
There was nothing for Feyra to do but say her farewells, to press her cheek to her father’s so hard that their tears mingled, and to wave and wave until he and the Kizlar Agha had turned the corner. She managed to stand until he was out of sight, then collapsed at the feet of the guards on to the pavings before her door.
The pavings where she’d once spun a top.
Chapter 6
F eyra lay in the dark, twisting the crystal ring.
She was no longer racked by indecision; she knew exactly what to do. She was merely waiting for her moment. She waited, and she twisted the circle on her finger, as if counting down the heartbeats until she could act.
The ring had only been hers for four hours and yet it already felt like part of her. She would twist the crystal band a quarter-turn so each time a different horse was uppermost – black horse, white horse, red horse, pale horse. She wondered if she shared the habit with her mother.
Her mother.
Nur Banu had been a mother to Feyra in all but name. She would grieve for her, yes, when the shock was past; but she had no need to place their relationship in a different perspective. There was love and respect given and received, embraces, encouragement, hours of time spent in each other’s company; more than any other daughter could expect. Feyra did not torture herself with things unsaid. All needful things had been told in those last awful hours, and the rest unspoken in the twenty years before them. Feyra’s one regret was that her mother had not been able to say more about the horsemen. About
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