Empire of Lies
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The sultan wasn’t sure what woke him up.
A ruffle of air, a barely detectable flutter of movement, a disturbance at the edge of his consciousness. Whatever it was, it was enough to cause him to stir within the lush expanse of his bedding and crack open his eyes, slightly at first as they adjusted to the faint light of the glowing embers in the fireplace, then jolting wide once they fell into focus to reveal the tall figure standing by the side of his bed.
“Salamu alaykum, padishah,” the man said, his voice calm and low.
The sultan bolted off his pillow, his pulse rocketing with fear as he tried to process what he was seeing: an intruder—an assassin?—here, in his sumptuous chamber, deep in the palace, past an army of guards and eunuchs.
Not just an intruder: the man was, the sultan now realized, naked.
“What the—who are y—”
“Shhh,” the man ordered him, bending down with lightning speed to press one hand firmly against the sultan’s mouth while raising his own index finger to his lips. “Be calm and stay quiet, your sublimity. I’m not here to cause you any harm.”