1520, Ottoman Empire

When it was announced in the Crimean Palace that I would be taken to Istanbul and presented as a gift to the new sultan’s harem, the other concubines clenched their fists in jealousy, pressing their nails so hard into their palms that they nearly drew blood. The less spiteful ones said how lucky I was and recited poems about the beauty of Istanbul. Ah, if only I could have told them there was no need to dream of being in my place.

It has been forty days since I arrived in Istanbul—forty days in a hell called the Old Palace. The palace is surrounded by moss-covered, mold-scented walls. The roses, hyacinths, and tulips in the garden cannot mask the stench. Since I came here, the only thing of Istanbul I have seen is the sky—and that is no different from the sky over Crimea or anywhere else in the world.

For concubines, especially the inexperienced ones, leaving the palace grounds is strictly forbidden. The only ones I have seen leave are the sultan’s mother and sisters. They visit the sultan at Topkapı Palace, stay a day or two, then return. Concubines presented to the sultan may also leave the Old Palace for Topkapı, but so far, none has been admitted to the sultan’s private chambers.

They say the sultan has a consort in the Manisa Palace to whom he is deeply attached—and that she has borne him a son. The sultan’s consort and their child are said to be traveling from Manisa to settle in the Old Palace.

According to the traditions of the Devlet-i Âliye, the women of the dynasty reside in the Old Palace. To be a woman in the Ottoman realm is to be both rewarded and punished; for the Old Palace is nothing more than a prison with the sky as its dome.

I am Aleksandra of Ruthenia; let the universe be my witness—this captivity of mine shall one day come to an end.

*AI Translation*