Chapter 11: Arrival In Constantinople

The ship glides into the Golden Horn at dawn, its sails catching the pale gold light that spills across the water. I hover beside Lucia, unseen by the sailors, watching her grip the railing as Constantinople rises before us.

Even in my ethereal form, I feel the weight of it. More than half a century has passed since the Ottomans captured the city from the fading Byzantine Empire, bringing to an end the last remnant of the once great Roman Empire. I sense the hum of thousands of voices, the scent of spice and smoke, and the layered skyline of domes and minarets. The Hagia Sophia, once a church and now a mosque, glows like a jewel. The walls of Topkapı Palace, the administrative centre of the empire, stretch across the promontory like a sleeping beast.

Lucia’s breath catches at the sheer majesty of what we see before us.

“It’s ... enormous,” she whispers.

Her fear pulses through the bracelet. I steady her with a soft ripple of Soul‑Realm calm, just enough to keep her hands from trembling. I’m impressed that she is holding up so well. It isn’t easy for a nineteen year old girl from a sheltered upbringing to be thrust into a strange new land and an uncertain fate.

By now I’ve established that Lucia is from a respected, but financially stressed, merchant family. Given the debauchery and wild excesses of Venetian society, finding a nineteen year old unmarried virgin from a respectable family was a mammoth task for the Venetian officials. It isn’t that Lucia is averse to sex; it’s that she prefers women to men. It’s a secret she has carefully guarded, even from her own parents. Ever since puberty, she has entertained a succession of men, but never allowed any to delve between her legs. That territory has been the preserve of her bisexual girlfriends. It’s a masquerade she has become adept at performing, although now she must pay the price of that deception.

The ship slows and prepares to drop anchor for the usual customs and health inspection before being allowed to moor at the quayside. Sailors call out to the captain when they see a smaller craft approaching. The dark‑hulled craft is sleek and expertly rowed. Ottoman officials in crisp uniforms sit amidships.

Lucia’s chaperone, Signora Bianca Malipiero, steps beside her. Her face is tight with worry. Bianca is in her forties, stern and elegant; a woman who has served Venice’s diplomatic missions for years. She has been Lucia’s guardian throughout the journey; adopting the roles of protector, instructor, and jailer as the need arises. The last thing the doges of Venice need is for Lucia to lose her virginity during the journey here. The ship’s crew have all been watching the beautiful Lucia with lustful eyes. Lucia hasn’t been blind to the attentions of the crew, and to some extent she has encouraged it. She’s intelligent, so she will have guessed that if she was no longer a virgin when the ship arrived, then she might be returned to Venice. However, Bianca has been a dutiful jailer, and Lucia’s virginity remains intact.