Chapter 20: Unwelcome Attention

The kasbah is quiet in the middle of the afternoon when the heat is almost unbearable. Its stone corridors are washed in bright sunlight despite the shades at the windows. The women’s courtyard has settled into the usual calm with soft voices, and the faint hum of lullabies drifting from the nursery as youngsters take their afternoon nap.

Madeleine finishes settling Yasmin in her cradle, humming the French tune that always sends the child to sleep. Yasmin’s tiny hand curls around Madeleine’s finger before releasing it, her breathing soft and even. Madeleine steps out of the nursery, closing the door gently behind her.

Today, Madeleine has been instructed to undertake an errand in the market. Normally one of the free women would undertake such an errand, but the heat is oppressive, so it becomes a task that is allocated to a slave. Madeleine. It’s a brief moment of freedom for Madeleine, so she doesn’t mind the duty. She leaves the woman’s quarters and passes through the kasbah’s administration and men’s quarters on the way to the main gate.

And she walks straight into danger. The Bey stands at the end of the corridor leading to the men’s quarters. He is alone. There are none of his usual guards, no attendants, no witnesses. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes are sharp and assessing, lingering on Madeleine in a way that makes my spirit jolt with alarm. The Bey rarely enters the women’s quarters, preferring his concubines to attend him in his private chambers, here at the front of the kasbah.

The Bey’s presence here and now is no coincidence. He has been quietly observing Madeleine in recent weeks. He’s impressed by her gentleness and quiet beauty. When his steward first purchased Madeleine, the Bey considered her too timid for bed sport. Now her sees her growing confidence and he’s reappraised his earlier assessment. She’s not as seductive as Aisha and Zaynab, but she makes up for that with her youthful looks.

Madeleine freezes. Her breath catches and her shoulders tighten. Her fingers twitch toward the bracelet. She cannot ignore him and pass by since she’s his slave. She cannot refuse whatever the Bey demands.

The Bey steps closer, slow and deliberate.

“You care for the child well,” he says, his voice low, smooth.

Madeleine’s lips part, but no sound comes out. She bows her head instinctively, eyes fixed on the floor. She isn’t fooled by his innocent comment. She recognises the lustful look in his eyes from her time as the corsairs’ captive. He steps closer still. Too close for comfort. I feel Madeleine’s fear as a cold and suffocating spike. She’s trapped.

I appear beside her; not visibly, but in a way that the bracelet’s magic allows. To her I’m a whisper of presence, a voice only she can hear. My ethereal form is invisible to everyone, even Madeleine. But she can sense me.

“Madeleine. Breathe,” I whisper in her mind.

Her breath trembles back into her lungs. The Bey reaches out, lifting her veil between his fingers. Madeleine’s entire body goes rigid. She barely moves as the Bey’s hand drifts down her cheek, onto her shoulder and then gently cupping her breast.