Equal of the Sun A Novel - By Anita Amirrezvani Page 0,38

court who didn’t marry, either by chance or by choice, must either find love quietly among themselves or remain loveless and thwarted forever. When Maryam brushed Pari’s hair or drew a line of kohl on her eyes, the affection that poured through her fingers was as visible as sparks. The palace women scrubbed each other’s backs, drew henna designs on each other’s bodies, helped each other through the screaming pain of birth, washed each other’s dead, and held each other’s hands in moments of joy and grief. I envied them sometimes. They lived in such a deep state of feeling for each other, whether love or hate, that it surrounded them like the weather.

As I left Pari’s rooms, my eyes rested on Shireen’s painted thighs and I thought with a pang about Khadijeh. She had ripened to bursting. She was likely to marry one day, as I could not offer her the things an uncut man could provide. But that did not mean I had been able to prevent myself from loving her.

The next morning, Isma‘il rode into Qazveen on a fine Arabian mare whose saddle and bridle were studded with jewels, followed by a large retinue on foot, including soldiers in battle armor and dozens of young men dressed in velvet bearing hawks on their fists. The streets of the city were lined with citizens who had come out to witness his arrival. They had decorated every corner of the city with flowers and laid out an avenue of brightly colored carpets to welcome him. Citizens dressed in their best robes stood on the carpets and chanted blessings as he passed, and musicians placed at every corner of the city filled the air with sweet sounds to honor his arrival.

Isma‘il’s men left him at the home of Kholafa Rumlu. Kholafa would expect significant rewards for assisting in the killing of Haydar, no doubt. The first one was that Isma‘il would honor him by staying at his house. Isma‘il would remain there until his astrologers decided the right moment had arrived for his entry into the palace itself, at which point more auguries would be taken and the coronation would be scheduled.

As soon as he had settled into Kholafa’s house, Isma‘il started receiving visitors. One of the first to be called was a small group of royal women including the princess. She asked me to accompany her, and when I arrived early in the morning to take her to Kholafa’s home, I drew in a breath at the sight of her in the rich brown robe, the ruby jewelry gleaming on her forehead. Maryam, who was an expert in the seven types of makeup that made a woman’s wardrobe complete, had scrubbed her skin until it shone, painted artful lines of black kohl on her eyelids, reddened her lips and cheekbones with madder, and anointed her with a perfumed oil that smelled like myrrh and lilacs.

“You are even more beautiful than a princess painted by the master Behzad!”

“Thank you,” Pari said. “At last I will meet my dear brother again, and rediscover one of the loves of my youth! I thought this day might never come.” Her eyes sparkled with joy.

Pari covered herself in her chador and entered a domed palanquin draped with orange velvet. Her lower-ranking eunuchs bore her through the gate to Kholafa’s house at the northern end of the city, while I walked alongside them. It was a hot day, but our walk was canopied by the leaves of the large walnut trees that had been planted in abundance in this part of the city. Was there ever a better tree? The stately, gnarled trunks exploded into generous fields of green above us.

As we passed the large gated homes along the street, citizens made way, stopping to stare at Pari’s retinue.

“What rich velvet!” sighed a woman wrapped in a tattered robe.

I too felt envious of Pari, but for a different reason. How my heart would be pounding with excitement if I were about to meet my own sibling, Jalileh, after an absence of so many years. Would she look like my mother? Like me? Would she be understanding when I revealed I had become a eunuch? I had not told my mother before she died, nor had I wished to convey the news to Jalileh by letter. Would her eyes grow tender when I told her the truth, or—

I tripped on a stone, and the captain behind me barked that I had better pay my respects to