Elena kneeled to a hunch, still covering her chest, and untied her shoes as quickly as possible, then pulled them off. She ducked her face as tears swelled. Rolling her stockings down, she chanced a look at Laila. The woman raised one eyebrow at the short chemise and pantalets. After a deep calming breath, Elena stood with every last scrap of dignity she could muster.

Laila shook her head and held aside the material hanging in the doorway. Elena slipped underneath and hid her rear against the wall, one arm firm across her bosom as she hurried after Laila. The sound of the guards’ slippered feet followed them.

This was a far worse humiliation than what she’d been subjected to at the slave market. To be paraded around all but naked. It was too much to bear. It made her want to scream her fury. This was a new low. How could she live this new life? What had she been thinking when she’d agreed to such a fate? Was it true that her husband was dead?

Or was this some ploy so her husband didn’t have to look out for her welfare?

“Oh, now, now, little beauty. No need to look forlorn. Come.” Laila pushed her with a gentle, coaxing hand down the length of the hall.

Elena paid no attention to her surroundings. Her mind was too scattered, imagining every possible course her new life might take. What if she couldn’t live up to the expectations of her owner? Already she balked at the idea of something so simple as a bath. Admittedly, it was the presence of the men that made her uneasy, filling her body with barely tempered rage. She wanted to lash out with clawed hands and rake her nails down their faces. Blind them from her humiliation.

She was at odds with herself. She’d never felt this kind of anger before. Not even when she was in the slave market. There, fear had drowned the anger that now boiled over in her blood. She closed her eyes for only a moment and took a calming breath.

Laila stopped when they reached a narrow passageway. The door in front of them was arched at the top in an elegant Turkish-style point. Small green mosaic tiles were inlaid around the stone, giving this part of the palace a less sterile feel with its warm, earthy colors.

Elena stepped into the room and hit a wall of steam.

“This is part of the private hamam.” Laila motioned to the clouds of steam rushing out to swallow them both. “There are also public baths, which you will use daily.”

“Hamam,” Elena repeated, puzzled. She could barely breathe, the air was so thick.

How could anyone bathe here? Steam rose all around her, tightening her chest and wetting her skin. Her chemise clung to her, and she felt as though she’d been doused with a boiling bucket of water.

“This is where I will remove your hair. Then we go to the public bath.”

A gasp escaped Elena’s lips with the pronouncement. Laila turned to look at her with a skeptical eye. Elena retreated, her shoulder blade hitting the corner of the entrance, stopping her escape.

“Remove my hair, you can’t possibly mean . ”

“You will see.” Laila pushed wooden clogs into her hands without further illumination, nodding toward the swirls of misty air that rose from deep within the room.

“These are called nalin. They’re for your feet. You must wear these whenever you are in the bath. The tiles below are hot enough to scald your feet. And it is better than walking in the filth below us and harder for djinn to kidnap you when you are out of their reach.”

Fitting her feet into the strange contraptions, Elena stood up and made a tentative step forward. They were heavy, maybe so the person wearing them didn’t slip on the wet floor.

“I will walk slowly. You needn’t worry about falling”—Laila held her arm out in an offer of support—“it is a few steps to the benches.”

She took Laila’s arm and made her steps slowly. She slid her feet more than walked, unwilling to risk a fall. Soon enough they were situated on one of the stone benches. It warmed her bottom. Tilting her head to look over the edge of the seat, she saw mother-of-pearl inlaid into the whole length of stone that was embedded into the floor.

There was so much steam swirling around them she couldn’t make out the pattern of the tiles beneath.

“You must take off your undergarments now.”

“I can’t possibly.”

Laila shook her head, clucking her tongue. The guards made their presence known again. Elena crossed her arms over her bosom, her reddened flesh beneath the chemise surely visible in this humidity. Her anger had simmered away, and in its place, fear rose again. The stress of the last few weeks must have taken its toll on her mind.

“You must cooperate while you are bathed. You have to be prepared properly before Amir receives you.” The words held more meaning than a simple bath.

“Then why should there be men present?”

“They will pay you no heed.” Laila stood, pulling up Elena’s chemise.

When Elena refused to raise her arm from her breasts, one guard stepped forward and pried her fingers from her middle and held her arm straight up. She cast her gaze to the floor when the material was removed, staring at the humid air hovering around her ankles. Laila pasted a thick substance onto the hair at her armpit with a flat wooden spoon. It was hot and Elena felt a slight tingling burn. Time ticked by—it felt like a moment trapped in an eternity of disgrace—before Laila scraped it off. It burned more when she did that, made the skin feel raw, like spilling hot tea on the back of your hand.

“This is what we do the first time; it is easiest to remove hair with the rusma,  but it discolors your skin and hurts if you use it too much or leave it on too long.”

Elena cried silently as she was forced to raise her other arm for the same treatment. She looked to no one, not that she saw much of her surroundings through her tears of shame. She could only imagine what they would do with her more private area.

Sweat and steam beaded all over her body, dripping into her eyes, stinging them.

Laila carried on. “After this, Maram, another sister here, will thread what hairs grow back. It is quick. Not as quick as the paste, but safer.” Laila placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Stop crying, my sister.” Her voice held new warmth. “You will get used to this.”

“I won’t. I can’t possibly live this way.” Her words came out a blubbering wail.

She clamped her mouth shut and bit her lip to still the tremor.

“But you have no choice. You can never leave. The only way to find yourself in the land beyond is with your dying breath. Think of your child. He is the only child you will know. We are not permitted motherhood here. You are blessed in life. Never take that for granted.”

Elena choked on a final sob and looked up with a nod. “How can you not have children if you are slaves of a . a bawdy nature?” She tripped over the last few words and looked away from the woman, swiping away the wetness on her cheek, though it did no good when the whole of her was sticky from the steam.

“Ah, I see how little you understand. There are ways. When we go to the bathing room I will show you how to use the sponge. It collects a man’s milk, so it cannot plant within your womb. If his seed is persistent, we use strong herbs to purge our body of the union.”

Laila took Elena’s arm in her grasp, lifting it level to her eye, and inspected it closely.

“You have no hair on your arms, this is good. It always hurts to take it from the body here.” The warm hand of the man holding her tilted her head back. “No hair in your nostrils, either. That hurts the most. It will sting a little to remove from your legs, though. I ask you now, will you cooperate to have the hair of your woman’s mound removed?”

Elena took a deep breath and answered with as steady a voice as she could muster.

“I—I will. If you’ll send away the men.” She gave a pointed glare toward the dark-skinned, fat one who stood in front of them. He looked uninterested in the task at hand and paid her no mind.

“They will stay in the room, but I will send them to the farthest wall. They are not men. You must remember this. All in the harem quarters are either woman or eunuch. The only man permitted in our living quarters is Amir.”

“Will I truly be expected to keep Amir company tonight?”

“Maybe tonight, maybe in a few days. Much depends on his business outside the harem. You have no need to fear him. Perhaps that is something you can only understand with time. But remember, he brought your child here.”

Elena nodded her agreement with that. “How many women live here?”

Distracting herself with conversation was easier than paying scrupulous attention to Laila’s ministrations. The hair being scraped off her lower legs burned a great deal. It felt as if a layer of skin had been torn from her.

“Thirty-six. His harem is not so big as the one I grew up in. Of course this is different, since other men may purchase us. But only from time to time.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the inner workings of a harem.”

“I will explain it all in due time. I can tell you that this is a kinder existence than being forgotten, should you have one man for a thousand women. That life is much more lonely.”

Elena gasped. She seemed to be doing that too much. A thousand? How was it possible that one man could have so many women at his disposal? How could any woman tolerate living that way? She’d only ever wanted to spend her life with one man—Griffin. She remembered him fondly, but when he’d left England for whatever reason, she’d been forced into marriage with an altogether different kind of man. Both those men were now gone from her life and in their place was another person wanting to force her hand to his own advantage.