Captured For The Sultan’s Pleasure

Jamal felt afraid and vulnerable and got angry at the feelings and the man who had fueled such emotions in him. He needed assurance and comfort from someone. He just walked on without thinking about his destination and became angry when he saw himself standing in front of the kitchen. Why was he here? The woman in there was the last person who would even think about alleviating his worries. As he turned to leave, he saw the kitchen head running towards him and realized that he couldn’t leave anymore.

“Sultan.” The woman bowed to him when she got to where he stood. “To what do we owe such a visit? Did we do something wrong?” The woman asked, shivering and fear reflecting in her voice.

Jamal thought she might faint if she continued that way. Was he always inflicting fears even in the heart of the women? How can he get out of the place without giving out the reason he was here in the first place? He smiled as an idea revealed itself.

“No, chef. I’m only here to select a personal maid who would be responsible for bringing all my meals from now on,” Jamal told the woman.

“Yes, Sultan.” The woman said.

Jamal followed her as she led the way into the kitchen. The moment he was in the kitchen, Jamal looked around for the familiar face of Roksolana. He spotted her sitting at a corner, flour and oil decorated her face and hijab. Pieces of chicken meat were scattered around. A woman was helping Roksolana wipe her face with a piece of clothing as gently as she could and Roksolana was trying hard not to show that she was in pain.

As Roksolana lifted her hand to take the cloth from the woman, Jamal saw a reddish-brown wound at her elbow. Were they maltreating her? His first thought was to go to her, but he rooted himself to the spot. She had asked for it. If she had accepted to be his mistress, she wouldn’t be suffering so much.

He heard the head chef call their attention together. As each of the women lifted their eyes from their works and saw him standing, they left their work and knelt before him.

Jamal saw the woman tending to Roksolana’s wound kneel the moment she spotted him. Roksolana however remained sitting, staring at him blatantly with hatred. The woman beside her pulled her by the hand and pointed to her knee, urging her to kneel. Reluctantly, Roksolana obeyed when she saw that everyone else including the head chef had performed the action.

“I’m just here to choose a personal maid, so please rise,” Jamal told them.

He watched as everyone rose and looked at him expectantly, Roksolana being the exception. If anything, she ignored him completely as if he didn’t exist.

Jamal felt anger rousing in him and frowned. Why was he always getting angry every time she did something out of context towards him? Why does he want her to acknowledge him so badly? He saw her looking at him and frowned again as his eyes fell on a small bump forming on her forehead. This time his anger was directed to the kitchen head. How had she let one of her workers get hurt?

Roksolana saw Jamal looking at her intently and averted her eyes. The man was probably just here to look for trouble and she wasn’t in the mood for that. She wished that he would pick someone and leave the room. Her wound hurt and she needed to clean it up so that it wouldn’t get infected.

She also felt a headache coming up and just wish to finish her morning chores so that she can relax. What was taking him so long to choose someone? It wasn’t a hard task considering how everyone was eager to get chosen, including Seyiddah.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

Jamal looked at every woman in the room and how eager they were just to serve him. He wondered why Roksolana couldn’t be like that and just accept everything he was offering her. Even now, she was acting as if she would rather be anywhere else other than in his presence. Trying to get out of his presence, right? He would make sure she stayed in it. He pointed his middle finger at her.

“You. What’s your name?” He asked.

“Seyiddah.” The woman beside Roksolana answered.

“Not you. Her,” Jamal said, pointing his finger at Roksolana again.

Seyiddah tapped Roksolana on the arm and she looked up. When she saw that he was pointing the finger at her, her countenance changed. If looks could kill, Jamal was sure that he would be dead in that instance. He shrugged to let her see that he didn’t care.

“From today, you are in charge of bringing my meals. Make sure that they are okay to the taste and it is never too late.” He told her, then walked away.