“No, Roberto!” I call after him. “Give him time to calm down.” I know what it is to lose a sister, and I cannot blame Halim for his rage. But by the look in Halim’s eyes just now, he’d be capable of anything. I cannot lose my only love.
Roberto’s marching stride does not falter. “My reputation is at stake,” he says over his shoulder. “And Halim is a prince, an honorable man.” Nicolo throws me a helpless glance, and there’s nothing we can do but follow.
We find Halim by the sound of his shouts. He is in the Doge’s apartments, appealing to him. Appealing—or demanding.
“You put her in a cheap box!” he bellows as we near the door. “A princess of the Ottomans, rotting and soiled in a pauper’s grave!”
We enter, and Halim doesn’t see us straightaway. The Doge sits implacably still in his high-backed chair. Some men from the Grand Council surround him. He holds up a hand.
“We didn’t know,” the Doge explains. “If we’d had any idea, of course we would have paid your sister the appropriate respect. But you must remember, no relatives came forward to claim her and she was an anonymous woman on the streets of our city.”
“Not on the streets, in the house of a …” His words fade away as he notices Roberto’s presence in the room. “You! In your house. In a murderer’s home! What was she doing there?” He strides towards Roberto, hands twitching. Roberto opens his mouth to respond, but Halim has reached to his waist and drawn a sword. One of his servants must have given it him, because he wasn’t wearing it just a moment ago in Roberto’s rooms, nor was it the one he had on our tour of the city. There are gasps, and people shrink back against the walls.
I have never seen a sword like Halim’s before. It curves in a smooth, lethal sweep of metal. There is a cross of gold at the hilt and calligraphy engraved near the top of the blade.
“I demand my honor,” Halim says in a low, thunderous voice. “I will fight you, Roberto, until one of us is dead.”
A sudden clamor of voices fills the apartment. Only the Doge sits silently at the heart of it, staring at the man who would kill his son. One of the elder statesmen takes a cautious step forward.
“This cannot happen,” he beseeches the Doge. “Roberto has not yet even been tried for murder.”
“Let God decide,” says Faruk. His thin lips are pursed into a smirk and I feel I could strike him down myself, if I only had a blade. He holds out a hand, palm up, and waits. One of the Ottoman servants scurries forward and places the hilt of a sword in his hand, and his fingers close around the metal. With a flick of his wrist, he turns the sword around so that the hilt faces Roberto.
“No!” The cry bubbles out from me as Roberto steps forward. This can’t be happening.
Roberto grasps the sword, and for a moment, I feel unsteady on my feet. Nausea squirms within me. I’ve seen Halim kill two men already today, each with lethal efficiency. After everything we’ve been through, for my beloved to be killed like this.…
Faruk smiles as Roberto takes the sword from him. Servants slip out of the room, and one of the women has begun crying. I feel fixed to my spot. It’s as if I’m watching a play unfold, and can do nothing but witness the actors’ performance. Roberto looks around the room, his gaze finally coming to rest on Halim, who rolls his wrist to flash the blade back and forth. This is nothing like our practice sessions—it’s so horribly real. Sweat beads on the prince’s brow. “Ready?” he says.
In reply, Roberto extends his sword. Its blade gleams beneath the chandeliers. Then something remarkable happens—I watch Roberto’s fingers peel away from the hilt and the sword clatters to the floor, its blade ringing as metal meets marble. Now, even the Doge’s eyes widen. A servant hurries to snatch the sword up and out of harm’s way. Roberto has done the unthinkable: he has refused a duel. I want to rush to his side, but I daren’t move.
“I won’t risk your death because of a misunderstanding,” Roberto announces.
Halim strides towards Roberto until the point of his curved sword presses against my beloved’s shirt. I can hardly watch.
“Fight me,” Halim demands. He looks close to tears now, his anger transformed