Kismet Ch. 15

The Black Squadron and their leader escorted the group through the village and up to the gates of the Sultan's palace. Hera's heart hammered rapidly in her chest. She was both scared and excited to see Afsoon's father. She wanted him to see her as the woman she was now. Gone was the innocent that had come to him eighteen years ago and in her place was a woman of fine breeding, but also more knowledgeable about how the world worked. She looked to her Master and felt evidence of true love and devotion, where in her heart she felt only the love of the past when she thought of Azlan.

A group of servants hurried out to greet the travelers and soon the women were taken to their own private quarters, There they were shown where to bathe, and food was set out to satisfytheir hunger. Hera found it hard to eat, but she did so. The food was tasteless, but only because her thoughts were elsewhere.

When would she be allowed to speak with the Sultan and discuss with him how best to find their daughter and rescue her? Also where was Mada? Surely the woman knew by now that a redheaded Englishwoman was within the city walls and dining on the foods of her husband. There was only one redheaded Englishwoman that would be given such accommodations without thought or hesitation.

Ulvi had left his women under the charge of Zuhar, the Sultan's mother, while he was escorted to a waiting room, where he was told he was to take audience with the Sultan himself. He wasn't surprised by this, after all, the missive he'd gotten said he was wanted at the palace. He was nevertheless curious why the Sultan had called him in the first place. From his understanding his keeping Hera was not a problem.

Ulvi had visited the palace when he was small and remembered it vividly. The old Sultan sat on a high, ornately engraved and jeweled throne and all who came at his command threw themselves on the floor before it. The throne room was huge, and probably held hundreds of people when necessary and every one of them trembled at the old man's words. The Director had briefed Ulvi before leaving him in the waiting room.

When Azlan was ready to receive Ulvi, he was taken to a small but formal reception room well away from the ceremonial parts of the palace. As his hand touched the doorknob, Mahmood reminded him, "Remember, stand until invited to sit and then sit straight. The Sultan insists on dignity for his subjects and will have nothing to do with posturing, flattery or hysteria. Look him in the eye and speak clearly. What he has to say to you is very important so listen carefully."

Ulvi entered the room to find Azlan sitting in a large but plain wooden chair. At his feet, kneeling on a silken cushion was a young woman dressed and veiled in the robes of a royal princess. Unlike one of the slave girls, this one sat alert as a hunting hound, her eyes sparkling through the opening in the fine fabric. But Ulvi took little notice of her. The Sultan had his full attention.

"Welcome, Captain." He clapped his hands imperiously, "A chair for my guest!" and smaller versions of the chair he sat in appeared behind him. When he was seated, Azlan gave him a crooked smile. "All rulers find out, sometimes too late, what has happened. A few, with great effort and the aid of good servants, figure out what is happening. The Al-Bezier thinks such men lack imagination. However, hard as it is to believe at times, he is only human and occasionally events occur before he can direct or forestall them. And that is not always bad. In your case, you are in possession of a very important piece to my life's puzzle, the result is to the kingdom's benefit."

Ulvi knew the Sultan spoke of Hera. He now feared the Sultan had changed his mind and wanted to take Hera as his own. "My Liege, as the law and the Prophet command, I took pity on this woman at the slave market. She was badly abused in a way no woman should be treated. I had no idea she was of concern to you until the Black Squadron patrol brought the bone-setter. Even then I was told that my interest in her could be nurtured. After she healed I—I became fond of her and . . . ."

"Which is the best thing I could have hoped for. Be told, Captain, Azerbaidistan sits between the Ottoman slime and the Russian swine. If those two get together, there is no escape for us. We would be carved up between them and sent back into the Dark Ages. The kingdom needs allies, powerful ones, and Allah has sent us an opportunity to acquire the greatest. We now bask in the favor of the British Empire. That relationship needs to be cemented, Captain, and you are the perfect man to do it. You have in your household a person familiar with the language, the culture and the manners of the aristocracy. You yourself are a man of honor and gallantry. Besides, you play an excellent game of polo, something they admire."

Ulvi listened, stunned by what seemed to be the Sultan's master plan all along. He knew it wasn't the case, but obviously their great leader had begun thinking more and more about Hera and her placement within Ulvi's household, and how to use it to his advantage. He was amazed by the workings of such a great mind, and honored to bear witness to it.

The Sultan continued. "Ambassador Fitzhugh assures me that a suitable mansion in Kensington is available for purchase. I will send you an unlimited bank draft to buy and furnish it and sufficient staff to run it until you can hire more in London. Naturally, you will also have a squad of Royal Dragoons as embassy guards as well as a small section of Mahmood's Clerks. You will need formal uniforms when acting in an official military function and suitable formal wear when at court. Have them made on Savile Row. Mahmood suggests that blending the Azerbaidistani and the English dress and way of life will give you an air of exoticism that the British will enjoy. I am sure your Hera would agree."

Ulvi stammered out his answer, "Yes—yes, my Liege, I—I believe she would. I am confused. You speak as if you expect me to wed Hera and though the idea does not displease me, I wish to make sure that I am understanding you correctly. She is to be my wife and we are to be -- Ambassadors for you, and our people. A great honor you bestow on me - - on her - - on us!"

"So you will wed Hera and make her your first wife," Azlan said. His words were not formed in the tone of a question, but rather a statement.

"Yes, my Liege, it will be an honor. You have given me -- us -- so much, that I fear she will beg another favor from you and you will see us as ungrateful servants," Ulvi confessed.

"She will forever have a place in my heart, so no request that falls from her lips will be seen as anything more than a friend asking a friend for guidance. What request do you believe she will make of me?"

Ulvi glanced briefly at the woman, whose eyes had remained fixed on his visage. The intensity in her gaze was unsettling, but he pushed it aside, knowing she was most likely gathering as much information as she could in order to share it with the harem women. He brought his attention back to Azlan.

"She seeks information concerning her daughter, as well as any aid you feel compelled to offer her," Ulvi admitted. "She was pulled away from her that day in the slave market and the last thing she knew was the young girl had been sold to General Risay, who I know has run like a coward and most likely either taken young Afsoon with him, or worse yet ended her life. I pray the former rather than the later, for at least with her still alive I can hope to one day fill the emptiness of her heart."

The Sultan grinned, tapped his lips and leaned back in his chair. "I shall do you one better." He snapped his fingers and the woman who had remained still and quiet turned her head toward Azlan. He nodded his head and the woman removed the veil that kept her face covered. "Ulvi Nabis 'Abbas, meet your new daughter, Afsoon."

Ulvi's eyes shifted quickly between the woman and his Liege. His jaw went slack, as the woman smiled at him and then toward her father. "As Hera believes you to still be in the hands of Risay, she will be stunned and overjoyed to learn the truth," Ulvi admitted. "I am stunned and overjoyed. She has found a place in my heart that I will forever cherish."

"Afsoon, go and wait for your mother in my private gardens. You may reveal yourself to her. I will have someone fetch her for you," Azlan said.

The young woman jumped up and hurried away. Azlan and Ulvi both chuckled. "Let us enjoy some coffee. Your wedding will take place tomorrow," the Sultan commanded.

Hera and Tulay, as well as all of Ulvi's women and most of the Sultan's, were relaxing together in a large open garden where their comings and goings were safely guarded. Zuhur and Merit remained together, each sharing with the other stories, until a servant approached the Sultan's mother and drew the attention of the gossiping women.

Zuhar dismissed the servant and whispered to Merit, who rose and headed toward Hera. Hera watched her Master's mother cautiously. She felt in her gut that the moment to address Azlan was upon her. She hoped and prayed he would find favor with her and allow her to ask his aid in finding their daughter. Merit reached her and Tulay's side, took Hera by the elbow and encouraged her to rise. They walked together, with Merit explaining that Hera was to be escorted to the Sultan's private gardens.

She felt both thrilled and apprehensive about the meeting, but also positive. She and Ulvi had not been in the palace for even a day and she was already being sent for by Azlan. Hera pressed her palm to her stomach and took a deep breath as she went with Zuhur to the gardens of the Sultan. She kept to herself that she knew the way. The former Hera would have voiced her knowledge and waved off Zuhur's attendance of her, but this was not the Englishwoman Hera, this was the slave Hera. Her head remained bowed and her steps just a few feet behind the Sultan's mother.

They paused outside a set of glass doors. A servant opened it and Zuhur stepped back. She ushered Hera in and whispered, "Deep breaths, child."

Hera's smile faltered at the soft warning. She stepped over the threshold and the door closed behind her. The garden was in full bloom. The scent of the exotic flowers filled the air, but their fragrance was lost to Hera. Her gaze had immediately fixed on the woman in the center of the garden. She stood still. Her body was draped in veils, but her face was free of all shrouds, and her hair hung in loose curls. Hera's lower lip trembled. Her knees felt week and threatened to buckle beneath her.

The woman darted forth, faster than her favorite steed back in London. Afsoon grabbed her mother and both slid to the floor, falling to their knees. Hera's hands moved to her daughter's face. Tears fell in waves as the women held and touched one another. Fingers trembled as each one touched the others arms, shoulders, neck, face. There were no wounds that marred either one, and when Hera felt her daughter was truly real and safe, she wrapped her arms tight around her and hugged her close.

Afsoon laughed, hugged her mother back and smiled to the two men that stood on the other side of the glass doors. Her father and her step-father stood watching the reunion. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of her mother. It felt right to be back in her arms.

When they pulled apart each one wiped at the others' tears. Hera sat on her knees for several seconds simply staring at her daughter. It wasn't until they heard the sound of the doors behind them opening that both women turned and rose to their feet. Hera saw Azlan and Ulvi, she ran to both and reached out to hug Afsoon's father. She stopped short, recalled her status and moved to bow before him. He allowed her to give him the customary greeting and when he gave her permission to rise, she looked to her Master.

"May I, with your permission and permission from our most esteemed leader, give our Sultan a hug?" Hera asked.

Ulvi laughed. "Yes, you may."

She smiled and turned to the Sultan who opened his arms and brought her in for a long embrace. The hug was full of admiration and respect. Hera felt it wash over her. She did not feel the past emotions of desire, love, lust and want. Those were gone and in their place were fond memories of a young girl's love. She pulled away and moved to her Master's side.

Afsoon walked up to her and stood next to her mother. They held hands as the two men walked through the door followed by the women.

"A feast tonight, full of dancing, fine food and a celebration for reunited loves," the Sultan said. He nodded to the servants who were in attendance and sent them scurrying to do his bidding. "Afsoon, you will have time to spend with your mother later, but for now, return to your duties. Ulvi, a pleasure speaking with you this afternoon. You and Hera," he nodded toward the redhead, "I will see later this evening when we dine."

He left the couple to their own devices. Ulvi, took Hera's hand and led her away from the Sultan's private chambers, and back to the rooms assigned to him. She fought to contain her excitement. Her fingers clenched tight on Ulvi's as if she were more than a simple slave girl. Hera thought nothing of it. Ulvi did. His heart seemed to tighten in his chest, as she clung to him. His body responded to the knowledge that she had bent to his will in front of the Sultan. He had seen the look of fondness cross her face, but that was all it was. The past was truly tied up for Hera and her future could truly be spent with him.

Once inside his chambers and the door was locked, he spun her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She returned the hungry touch. Their tongues tangled and twisted, danced and frolicked in the others mouth. Her hands worked quickly to divulge him of his robes, and he tore at the veils and yards upon yards of material that kept her covered. When they were finally naked and touching skin, their hands explored where their mouths could not.

Ulvi lifted her and carried her to the bed, where he dropped her. She laughed, reached out to him and accepted his full length with a hunger that matched his own. Their first coming together was fast and full of angry grunts and vulgar words. The second mating was slower, more serene and more focused on bringing the passion to a boiling point. When they came it was together, and Ulvi's seed burrowing a home into Hera's womb.

In the aftermath of their love-making, Ulvi held her close and rubbed her back, stroked her hair and kissed her with tender caresses of his lips. "Hera, I wish to make you my first wife," he confessed. "I will then take Tulay as second wife. The Sultan sees our marriage being good for the country, but I," he lifted her chin and held her gaze, "feel it is best for me."

She smiled softly, leaned in to him and kissed him deeply.

"I would be honored to be the wife of Ulvi Nasib 'Abbas and feel it is best for me," she admitted.

He smiled and kissed her back. He rolled her to her back and made love to her once again. There would be time later to tell her they would be returning to her England and presenting themselves as Ambassadors from his country. Right now, he wanted to consume her until she lay spent.

Author's Note: This concludes the chain story Kismet, however I would like to extend an invitation to the readers to continue following the adventures for several of these characters via voluptuary_manque's submissions here on Lit., as well as TE999. Both of these outstanding writers have taken this story far beyond what I ever imagined. The political intrigue, the strong female leads and the twists and turns that they created kept me excited. I also want to thank LoquaciousLady along with TE999 and voluptuary_manque for their continued support throughout the telling of this chain. It was fun and I enjoyed getting to know each of you through your writings and posts! ~ Red