“But do youloveher?” Popodopolis pressed.
Ziyaeddin gave a start at hearing the query. “More now than the day she was thrown down before me by those damned pirates,” he replied. “She has given me another daughter and now a son...” He took a deep breath. “At my age, I am fortunate to experience another love in my life.”
The captain seemed satisfied with the answer, although his attention had gone to something—or someone—behind the sultan. “I am relieved to hear it,” he said. “I made a promise a long time ago to see to it she made it to Syros and then onto a ship bound for Athens, and I still haven’t fulfilled that promise,” he explained.
“Well, if you ever do, you’ll be taking me, too,” Ziyaeddin warned. “I will not allow her to travel alone.”
“Understood,” Popodopolis remarked. His brows furrowed. “Are you about to be in some sort of trouble?”
Ziyaeddin frowned before his eyes rounded. “Is my sultana behind me?” he asked, just then remembering he hadn’t told anyone he was leaving the palace whilst in possession of the baby.
Popodopolis nodded. “And she has someone with her,” he said.
“That would be Zehra,” the sultan guessed, referring to his youngest daughter.
“You are in luck. Duchess Charlotte doesn’t appear to be angry,” he added as he allowed a huge grin.
“Poppy!” Charlotte Sultana shouted happily as she rushed down the path. Her progress was impeded, however. Clasped in one of her hands was the much smaller hand of a two-year-old girl who was moving as fast as she could.
The toddler, dressed in a European style gown of pale pink with white petticoats, white stockings, and black slippers, called out “Baba!” when her father turned around and knelt. She collided with him a moment later, nearly knocking him backwards in the process.
Chuckling as his newest daughter kissed his cheeks and wrapped her chubby arms around his neck, Ziyaeddin managed to return to standing whilst holding both children, one against each shoulder. He kissed his daughter on the forehead and was about to do the same to his son, but the boy’s attention was captured by his mother. His legs bent and straightened over and over at the same time his hands fisted and pummeled Ziyaeddin in his excitement.
“Oh, I see who you favor,” the sultan accused. As the babe continued his display of happy excitement, Ziyaeddin turned around to discover Popodopolis laughing at his expense.
“I see what you mean, old man,” the captain said as his eyes crinkled in delight. He lifted Charlotte’s hand to his lips. “Your Grace,” he said as he bowed. “Or should I call you... Your Highness... or Your Majesty now?”
“Well, I did marry him,” Charlotte acknowledged, lifting herself onto tiptoes so she could kiss the sultan on his cheek. “But I suppose I shall always be a duchess to you.” Ahmet took the opportunity to launch himself into her arms, babbling happily as he rested his head on her shoulder.
“She is my only sultana,” Ziyaeddin acknowledged.
“Do you have time to spend with your daughter?” Charlotte asked of the captain, grinning when he took Zehra’s chubby fist to his lips. The toddler giggled. “I spoke to Elena only a moment ago to let her know you had arrived.”
“I would like that, if she can afford the time.” His attention was on Ziyaeddin as he replied. “We’ll need to set out around sunset,” he added. “The winds will favor us then.”
“Spend as much time with her as you’d like,” Ziyaeddin said. “Enjoy a meal together. Your crew is welcome to eat as well.”
The captain dared a glance toward the dock. “I appreciate the offer, but please do not take offense when I tell you they would prefer staying aboard the ship.”
Ziyaeddin shrugged, well aware Popodopolis’ crew were mostly Greeks, and many had been sailors in the Greek War for Independence from the Ottoman Empire.
“The boys are all packed, and a servant is seeing to their trunks right now,” Charlotte said. “Even though I’ve known this day was coming, I cannot help but be sad that they are leaving us,” she said, referring to David and Ertugrul. “Again,” she added with an arched brow.
Only the year before, the two had set off intending to go to England for the Season when the weather in the Mediterranean forced Popodopolis to put theSon of Apollointo port in Sicily. By the time the weather had cleared a few days later, David had sent word of their intentions to remain on the island.
“Having seen what Catania has to offer and learning of the numerous mosaics that can be found in the churches and public buildings here, I wish to continue my Grand Tour, and Ertugrul has fallen hard for Baroque architecture. There is no talking him into a trip to England this year.”
“Am I to return them here after the Season is over?” the captain asked as they climbed the path toward the palace. Newly bloomed tulips lined the way, their red and yellow petals still closed at the top.
Ziyaeddin directed a glance toward his wife, but Charlotte had paused to lower Ahmet so his face was closer to a tulip. The boys arms shot out in an effort to capture one of the flowers, but she used a hand to cover his. “You can look, but don’t touch,” she said. When she straightened, she had tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “If it can be arranged with your schedule,” she answered, sniffling. “Although we’ll be back in Constantinople by then.”
“What’s wrong?” Ziyaeddin asked, his brows furrowing at seeing her bright eyes.
She blinked several times. “I’m just sorry to see the boys go is all,” she replied. “They’re like my own sons,” she added. “Especially Ertugrul.”
Ziyaeddin exchanged a quick glance with Popodopolis, his look of concern fading after a moment. “Are you worried you’ll never see them again?”
Charlotte inhaled softly, her eyes rounding. “What if they meet some young ladies? Fall in love? Wish to marry?” she asked in a rush.
