CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWO
With the rising of the new moon, Suleyman cradled Haseki in his arms, carrying her down through the gardens of Topkapi. She clutched at him, a gentle smile crossing her face as she pressed her cheek to his chest.
“The sea air will do you well, my Tulip.” An anxious smile was offered.
The gardens had blossomed—succulent greens and grays, splendored by the myriad colors of tulips. They stopped now and then so that the Favorite may enjoy the intensity and fragrance of the blooms. When they reached the Shore Pavilion, Suleyman tightened his grip and climbed the steps up to the covered podium. The magnificent panorama of the Golden Horn and Bosphorus spread out before them, but Haseki saw only Davud sitting on a divan, with young Cihangir in his arms. She was lowe
