“But each young woman he met, the dragon prince devoured her.
“‘We cannot go on like this,’ the queen told her husband. ‘He will never find a wife and he will blame us!’ The king despaired of what to do. Then, an advisor told him, what ifinstead of prospective wives, you send a hunter instead? There are tribes in the north and the east who have warrior women among them. A wife like that may stand more of a chance.
“So, they said, bring in the hunting women from the farthest reaches of the lands! Send them to the dragon prince.
“And the suitors arrive once more, only this time instead of shy young maids, they are fierce warriors, disguised as noble ladies, with deadly weapons concealed in their robes.
“The first warrior brought a knife. She waited until the dragon prince came bearing down on her before drawing it. But the prince’s tough scales were too thick for her knife to pierce. He devoured her.
“The second warrior brought poison. She waited until their supper and slipped the poison into the prince’s cup. But his fiery breath burnt it away, and then he devoured her too.
“The third warrior came, and she dressed in armour and a mask covered in porcupine quills. So sharp and long were these quills, that the dragon prince couldn’t come near her without pricking his eyes and his tongue when he opened his mouth to devour her.
“They circled each other in the bed chamber, neither one able to best the other. Frustrated, the dragon prince commanded her, ‘Remove your spikes!’ And she replied, ‘I will remove my spikes, my prince, once you remove your dragon scales.’”
“Ferociously hungry, the dragon prince agreed. He removed his dragon scales, revealing for the first time, the naked form of a beautiful young man.
“The woman, cunning as she was, took the scales and tossed them into the fire, burning them for good. When she removed her spikes, they could finally be together and be married.
“And that is the story of The Dragon Prince,” Hasim finished with a smile.
Francis was enchanted.
“That was very enjoyable,” he told Hasim.
“I could tell more, but…” Hasim glanced at the sleepy children and cats. “Perhaps another place?”
“What did you have in mind?” Francis asked.
Hasim carefully handed his sleeping kitten to one of the attendants to take care of. “Come.” He held out his hand, and Francis took it.
“Where are we going?”
“I will show you my city,” Hasim said.
Chapter 11
They set out from the garden, along with a trio of women from the kitten pavilion. They had brought shawls of fine linen, covering their necks and shoulders. Francis was given a shawl, as was Hasim. He watched Hasim drape the shawl just so around his head and shoulders, partially covering his lower face.
Francis wondered why and saw one of the women making a gesture of rubbing her arms with both hands and pretending to shiver for his benefit, so he presumed it was to protect against a chill, though the evening was warm with hardly any breeze.
After leading him through a private path, they came out upon a secluded exit to the palace, clearly in use by servants, and a tram stopped directly in front of it.
Now Francis understood, and he wrapped his shoulders with his shawl.
They boarded an empty carriage in the tram, this one in wrought iron, but not gold like the royal tram, and waited for more passengers to fill it up before it set off through the palace grounds.
Hasim sat next to Francis, quite close, and began to tell him a story that felt altogether more personal and exciting. Whether he didn’t want to be overheard or simply wanted an excuse to whisper in Francis’s ear, Hasim spoke quietly as he told of a young prince that so admired the belly dancers of his father’s Harem, he stole into the city one night to seek out belly dancers who were men.
As the tram took them out of the palace grounds, cut through a lantern lit tunnel, then snaked its way into the western side of Istanbul, Francis found himself immersed in the bustling city nightlife.
The streets were cobblestoned, and the tram glided smoothly across on its own rails, passing by pedestrians of allwalks of life. Beautiful lanterns suspended overhead lit up the streets in a kaleidoscope of colour; voices both young and old called out in Turkish, haggling for prices at market stalls, or selling street food. The smells were divine, and Francis noticed the great, sudden wafts of air piped in from side streets, keeping the air cool and fresh.
There was so much to look at and take in, and he had the joy of passively observing it all from his spot on the tram. Heaven.
“Across that square is the animal hospital,” Hasim pointed out. “The surgeons and nurses are the best in all of Türkiye.”
“I’m glad to hear the animals are taken care of,” Francis said. “But Hasim, you can’t tell me about men belly dancing then change the subject like that. Do male belly dancers exist?”
