After their lovemaking, Flora had fallen asleep and when she woke, Hamid was no longer lying next to her. She went to the balcony to find him, and saw him standing under the pergola, in intimate conversation with a veiled woman. Siran told her the woman's name was Peresto.

Peresto had looked up to the balcony, and Hamid had followed her gaze. When he saw her, there was something in the way he did a double-take which told her Peresto had caught a strand of their tightly woven cocoon, and that it was unravelling. She wanted to cry.

Still now, after he had left her alone in the yali, tears burnt under her eyelids. He had sworn he would return, he had asked her to trust him, and she wanted to. A long wail of pain had escaped her mouth when he announced that he would return to the palace. She'd pounded her fists into his chest and clawed at his face. He grabbed her arms and held her, his fingers dug into the naked skin of her arms. Her nails ripped the skin on his left cheek, leaving a thin trickle of blood. Gasping, they pulled away, equally unnerved by what they'd done to each other. When he released her arms, there were deep, red marks on her skin. He looked at them, then dropped into the chair with his face buried in his hands. She refused to understand what he'd said, refused to help him. A wave of bitterness filled her heart and a long, heavy silence settled between them.

Then she had tried to reason with him. "They will not let you leave again. How can you trust Murad? What if he is truly mad, then what will you do? You don't owe him anything."

"It's not for him I must return, it is for us, don't you see? I'm the Crown Prince, I'm next in line. When the Swiss doctor declares him unfit to rule, they will come for me." His voice was thick with emotion.

"You will be on the steamer on your way to America."

"No. That's in seven days, it will be too late."

"It's a trap. It's a way to lure you back."

"The Valide is right. I can make the stakes clear to Murad. He will think that I have come to depose him, he will see conspiracies everywhere, and he will do anything – cut the drink, cut the morphine – to keep me from the throne. I know he will."

"He will have you killed like he did your uncle."

"The Valide has sworn to protect me."

"You believe her?"

"I will come back to you. To us. I swear."

He'd tried to convince her that there was hope, but his words changed nothing. She didn't speak, she simply listened, bruised and resentful. The double doors to the balcony stood open, and the curtains fluttered in the warm breeze.

"And when you come back here, what will we do?"

"We will board the steamer and leave for America."

"Will we?"

"Yes, we will. Reshid has made the arrangements."

Flora looked at the fluttering curtains, put her hand out and crushed the fabric between her fingers.

"And you think there will be a place for us in America?"

He blinked. "Are you doubting us now?" His eyes searched hers, and seeing his pain, she softened. None of this was his fault.

"I do not doubt us."

"Good. Then I will return to the palace and speak with Murad."

"If you think it's what you must do." She stepped through the double doors to the balcony. It was a cloudless day, the afternoon sun was still bright. On a boat which slowly drifted past, musicians played cheerful music for summer guests in the yali along the coast. The captain waved at Flora.

She said, "I believed that we could carve out a small part of the world for us."

"We will."

"You are right." She sighed and brushed away a strand of hair from her face. "I'm being unreasonable, it's not helpful."

He wrapped his arms around her.

"Trust me. Placing Murad securely on the throne is the only way for me to leave the empire."

They discussed some practicalities. Hifsi would watch over her. She should trust no one else, none of the eunuchs or kalfa, not the caretaker, and none of the guards. It was laughable to imagine that someone would go to the trouble of harming her, but his words made her shiver.

There was a knock on the door. Hifsi informed him that Peresto was ready to leave. Not looking at him, Flora took the miniature painting of the two lovers off the wall and gave it to him. He flashed a glance of pure fear at her and for a moment, they stared horrified into each other's eyes. Then she kissed him. He turned and quickly left.

She blinked away the burning tears and listened. A terrible sense of foreboding filled her, and an urge to hold him in her arms one more time.

Flora rushed through the harem to catch up with him. Eunuchs blocked the revolving door to the selamlik and the doors to the harem garden. Desperate, she returned to the salon, and not knowing what else to do, placed her hand on the cool glass of the large windows. In the driveway below, Hifsi loaded a small trunk into the carriage. The gilded coat of arms on the side glowed in the sun.

She turned away from the window. The room where she had spent so much time with Hamid felt as silent and abandoned as when she had first arrived in the yali. Forlorn, she passed from one piece of furniture to another, touched the rich fabrics with an expert hand, and returned to the drapes that framed the window. The soft fabric flowed smoothly between her fingers. This was raw silk, she could tell by the prism-like imperfections in the weaving and the lack of sheen, which made it look more like thin wool than silk. Although here and there the sun had made the colour fade to white, the curtains were of superior quality. Very satisfactory. It felt like an eternity since she had paid attention to fabrics in this way, like a professional, like the owner of a glove store. Her heart tightened, she felt vulnerable. Hers was a vaporous existence, fragile, at risk, dissolving. She didn't want to think about the shop now, or of anything else outside of this quickly fading world.

There were voices outside. Hurriedly, Flora returned to the window. The mounted escort was getting into position before and after the carriage. The guards carried spears decorated with red horsetails, and their horses were adorned in rich materials in scarlet and yellow. Their leader, a black eunuch, wore a helmet with one, tall plume. The harness of his horse was of gold and studded with pearls. After the guards, rode a handful of colourfully dressed eunuchs. The procession emitted magnificence and royal power.

Something in her mind shifted. Hamid had to return to the palace, she accepted it now, but it didn't make the separation any easier to bear. Abruptly she turned from the window, but froze immediately. Blocking her path was a woman who had appeared out of nowhere, exquisite in dusty-pink robes and her hair covered in transparent gauze, like cotton candy.

"I didn't mean to startle you." While saying this, she removed her veil and examined Flora with interest, not hostile but sympathetic. "You know who I am."

It wasn't a question. Still, Flora nodded.

Everything about Peresto was striking, the pale, unblemished skin, the icy blue eyes, the dark eyelashes and eyebrows, her long, slender fingers. Flora was taller by half a head or more; it felt wrong, disrespectful even. But Peresto's frail build and easy manner were deceptive. She oozed confidence and natural authority, like a queen or an empress. Flora had to resist an impulse to kneel. There was an awkward moment which Peresto diffused with a smile, and by offering Flora her gloved hand.

"I've prayed to Allah that we would meet."

Flora curtsied to hide that she found no words to respond. Her eye rested on Peresto's gloved hand; she would recognise her own work anywhere. Occasionally, a closed carriage from the Imperial Harem would stop outside the glove store, a eunuch would enter and make a selection of gloves, which he would take back to whomever sat hidden behind the drawn curtains of the carriage. Had Peresto been one of those mysterious customers? Despite herself, she felt flattered; it took the edge off the loathing which she had felt for Peresto, turning it against herself instead. Next to Peresto's graciousness, she felt callous and vulgar.

"Hamid said you would know about us."

"There's so much you don't understand," Peresto said. "It's not your fault," she added hurriedly, as if she had spoken out of line.

There was another awkward silence which Peresto again diffused, this time by complimenting Flora on her healthy complexion. In a bolt of fear, Flora placed a protective hand on her belly, and Peresto's gaze followed her hand. She felt manipulated, as if Peresto's method was one of bonding, reaching out with velvet gloves, only to reveal an iron fist inside. What a fool to have fallen for the flattery and let down her guard. She blazed inside. Whatever sympathy she had felt for Peresto vanished. She wanted to hurt her, to humiliate her, to challenge her authority.

"Why can't you let him go," she asked. "What kind of mother are you?"

For a fraction of a second Flora met Peresto's gaze, a tender look which made Flora feel crude and stupid, and immediately lower her eyes.

"Hamid is an Osman," Peresto said. "Watched by everyone, feared and envied and lonely. Never knowing if he is worthy of the place which Allah has appointed for him. In his veins run the blood of his ancestors, Suleyman, Mehmed, Mahmoud, Medjid – they're always with him, muttering inside his head, to criticise, to make him feel small and insufficient. Doubting himself, he might think it easier to be human." She shook her head. "It is the will of Allah that he shall be Sultan. When he does, he will cease to be a man, and become God's shadow on earth, and we can only love him like we love God, not as the man you need him to be. Do you understand?"

Again, Flora nodded. She understood perfectly well what Peresto said, but her whole organism rejected it.

"It is his destiny to join his ancestors in that great long lineage of men – there is nothing else in this world for him. Whatever he has made you believe, his path is written. I thought it fair to tell you."

Peresto took Flora's hands in hers and brushed the fingertips with a featherlight kiss. "God bless you my child. We must all submit to the will of Allah."

It was over. As Peresto exited, she seemed to suck all the energy out of the room, and Flora felt abandoned, overwhelmed by the urge to cry.

There were running footsteps in the driveway below, and orders bellowed. Flora's heart stopped in her chest. She checked the window – the escort had mounted the horses. Hamid emerged from the house, and as he entered the carriage, he turned towards the window and raised his hand. Flora raised her hand in return, her face empty.

A eunuch slammed the carriage door shut and stepped back onto the steps. Another order was bellowed and the carriage, with the whole retinue, pulled away from the approach. Flora lowered her hand and watched the progress of the carriage. It receded rapidly down the pathway. She stepped away from the window.

An irresistible idea came to her. She ran through the harem, up the stairs, and threw open the door to the disused tower room. Her fingers struggled frantically to open the wooden window frame, which was stuck. She looked about the empty room, found nothing and instead, pushed the frame with her full weight. The window burst open. The carriage, tiny now, seemed to be waiting for her, suspended in the air at the precise point where the sky and the pathway melted together. Then it disappeared out of sight beyond the trees.

Dread coiled like a snake inside her. With the back of her hand, she brushed away unfallen tears. She'd never felt so alone. The harem was strange and hateful to her, she felt a need to get out of there, to breathe fresh air. She returned to the revolving doors, where a eunuch again blocked her path.

"For your safety, you cannot leave the harem," he said.

"Who has decided this?"

The eunuch pressed his lips tightly together.

_________________________

Author's note

In the 19th century, the Ottoman Empire was a major player in the global silk trade, with the city of Bursa at the heart of its silk industry. Bursa, located in northwestern Anatolia, was renowned for its high-quality silk. The city's silk production reached its peak in the mid-19th century, with an estimated 1,000 tons of raw silk being produced annually. The Ottoman silk industry employed thousands of people, from silkworm farmers to skilled weavers and artisans. 

Interestingly, the empire's silk production was so important that the sultans themselves took a keen interest in its cultivation. Hamid's father, Sultan Abdülmecid I (1839-1861) even had a special room in his palace dedicated to the raising of silkworms, where he would personally tend to the delicate creatures. This fascinating detail underscores the significance of the silk industry to the Ottoman Empire's economy and culture in the 19th century.