I wake to the weight of his gaze before I hear his voice. My eyes flutter open, and there he stands—Mehmet, fully dressed at the foot of the bed, his silhouette sharp against the morning light filtering through the latticed windows. The sight of him sends my heart into a frantic rhythm that has nothing to do with sleep.
"Leyla." His voice is quiet but urgent, carrying something that makes me push myself up against the pillows. "I need to tell you something."
The warmth drains from my body despite the blankets cocooning me. I clutch the fabric against my chest, suddenly very aware of my vulnerability, of how small I feel in this enormous bed without him beside me. "What is it?"
"I have the proof." The words fall between us like stones into still water, creating ripples I can already feel expanding outward. "Everything we need to incriminate Lord Kemal and Lord Razavi. The puppeteers who make the common folk suffer while they fill their coffers with golden pieces."
My father. He's talking about my father. I force myself to breathe, to think past the sudden pressure behind my eyes.
"You're certain that’s all of them?" I ask, though I already know the answer. Mehmet wouldn't be standing here, wouldn't be looking at me with those dark eyes full of terrible compassion, if he weren't absolutely certain.
"Yes. There are other names, underneath both of them, enjoying the fruit of their labor," He moves closer, sits on the edge of the bed. His hand finds mine through the blankets, warm and solid. "I need to take this to my father. To the Sultan."
He takes a deep, sorrowful breath. “But I need to know you’re going to be okay, Leyla.”
A smile on my face isn’t even forced. Never forced—with him.
“I’ll be alright. You don’t have to worry.”
He doesn’t look convincing. I know what he means—not my physical safety, he knows how safe his chambers are—but my mind. After everything that’s happened even I don’t believe my own words.
On the other hand… The truth is on my side. And that gives me some peace of mind.
He studies my face, searching for cracks in my resolve. I let him look, let him see that I'm not breaking, that I'm stronger than he might fear. Finally, he nods, brings my hand to his lips. The kiss is brief but it brands me, marks this moment as something I'll carry forever.
"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promises, then he's gone, leaving me alone with the weight of what's about to happen.
I dress quickly, my fingers fumbling with the clasps and ties. I need to find them—Safiye, Esma, Nurbanu. They need to know before whispers start spreading through the palace like wildfire. They need to hear it from me.
I find them in Safiye's chambers, the three of them gathered around the low table where breakfast has been laid out. They look up when I enter, and whatever they see in my face makes Safiye set down her cup immediately.
"Leyla, what's happened?" she asks, rising to her feet.
"Mehmet has the proof." The words come out steadier than I expected. "Against Lord Kemal and Lord Razavi. He's gone to tell the Sultan everything now."
"Lord Razavi is your father," Nurbanu says quietly, not a question but an acknowledgment. She's watching me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing.
"Yes. My father. Which means, by proxy, my mother and my sister are involved too." I turn to Esma, see the confusion already forming on her face. "Yasmin is part of this, Esma. I know she's your friend, but—"
"No." Esma shakes her head, her voice rising. "Yasmin wouldn't—she's not—"
"She is," I insist, moving closer to her. "I know this is hard to hear. I know you care about her. But you've seen what she's like, Esma. You've gotten to know me these past weeks, and you know I'm nothing like her. There's a reason for that."
"But participating in schemes that hurt innocent people?" Esma's eyes are wide, disbelieving. "Yasmin is vain and selfish, cruel even. But this cruel?"
"She's been raised to think only of wealth and status," I say gently. "She doesn't see the people who suffer. She doesn't want to see them. To her, they're not real. Besides… She quite enjoyed torturing me."
Esma sinks back onto her cushion, her hands twisting in her lap. I can see the war playing out across her face—the friend she thought she knew battling against the truth she's seeing now. It's painful to watch, this moment of innocence shattering, but I can't spare her from it. None of us can be spared from the truth anymore.
"I should have seen it," she whispers finally. "The way she talks about servants, about merchants. Like they're less than human. I thought it was just... I thought she'd grow out of it."
"People like Yasmin don't grow out of it," Nurbanu says, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "They grow into it. If someone is rotten, you'll see it in every action they do."
The words hang in the air, stark and undeniable. I feel them settle into my bones, a truth I've known but never articulated quite so clearly. Safiye reaches for my hand, squeezes it.
"You're brave," she tells me, her voice soft but firm. "To stand against your own family, to choose what's right over what's easy—that takes courage most people never find."
"I don't feel brave," I admit. "I feel terrified. Of what happens next, of what this means for everyone involved."
"That's what courage is," Safiye says. "Being terrified and doing the right thing anyway."
Before I can respond, before I can let her words truly sink in, the door opens. One of the palace eunuchs stands in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral in that way that means something significant is happening.
"Lady Leyla," he says, bowing slightly. "His Majesty the Sultan requests your presence. Immediately."
The room goes still. I feel three pairs of eyes on me, feel the weight of what this summons means. Mehmet must have already spoken to his father. The Sultan knows everything now. So what does he want from me?
I stand, smoothing down my dress with hands that want to shake but don't. I won't let them. I've made my choice, set these wheels in motion, and now I have to see it through to whatever end awaits.
"I'll come," I tell the eunuch, then turn back to my friends. Safiye gives me an encouraging nod. Esma looks worried but determined. Nurbanu's expression is unreadable, but there's something like approval in her eyes.
I follow the eunuch out into the corridor, each step taking me closer to the Sultan, closer to the moment where everything changes. My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape, but I keep walking. Keep breathing. Keep moving forward into whatever comes next.