The late afternoon sun spilled gold across the tiled floor of the Topkapı pavilion. Incense hung heavy in the air—amber and rose—and soft lute music drifted through the garden beyond. Sultana Leyla Safiye reclined on a divan draped in silk, one bare foot lazily brushing against a tasseled cushion. A pale youth from Chios sat beside her, feeding her grapes as she played absentmindedly with his curls.

A harried courtier bowed stiffly before her, parchment in hand. “Your Majesty, the matter of the border levies requires—”

She waved a jeweled hand without looking up. “Mmm. Let the Grand Vizier earn his salary. I am so very busy,” she purred, plucking a grape from the boy’s fingers with her lips. “Now hush. You’re ruining the music.”

The servant beside her dutifully refilled her goblet with ruby wine as the courtier backed away, flushed and fuming. Leyla smirked softly, lifting her glass to the fading light. "Let the empire wait. I have better things in my hands. Isn't that right dear?" she asked him, lightly tugging on his hair.