Chapter 67
When Ishtar’s name came up in the conversation, Teron’s back stiffened immediately.
“Who were the ones who attacked her?”
As the relaxed expression on Teron’s face turned icy in an instant, Mirham chuckled dryly.
“Seems my old instincts were right. For some reason I thought this matter would come before the Diader incident. Experience shouldn’t be underestimated, after all.”
“Cut the nonsense and answer the question.”
Teron put his hand on his waist as if ready to draw his sword at any moment.
The old man clicked his tongue and grumbled.
“Oh my, your temper is just the same as ever. If the young women in the capital who clamor for Prince Teron could see this side of you… if you make that face, they’d all run away, I wager.”
“Answer.”
Srring.
When an ominous sound announced the sword being finally drawn, Mirham gave up, raised both hands as if surrendering, and hurriedly began to speak.
“While you were away, the spy we planted near Berhan sent word. He hired some mercenaries, paid them to kidnap the woman. Apparently he offered a large sum even for killing her.”
Hearing his uncle’s name mentioned, an obvious expression of displeasure crossed Teron’s face.
‘Hiring mercenaries — what a manly, stupid thing to do.’
He guessed his uncle had hired outside help to conceal his own involvement in ordering the abduction, but that invited the risk of exposing his identity.
Moreover, to handle a woman close to Suleiman that way — it spoke only of the limited thinking of those with nothing but money.
He ground his teeth and, in a low voice, asked the old man another question.
“…Does Mother know everything about this?”
“Well… I can’t be certain of the exact details, but it seems Lady Roxelana doesn’t take much interest in this matter. I hear she showed no particular reaction even after being informed yesterday.”
“I’ll see Mother myself.”
With a quick turn, Teron strode off and flung the door open so hard it banged.
“I’ll go to Mother’s palace.”
“Sir? Right now… you mean?”
“Yes. Now. Immediately.”
Startled attendants bowed quickly and followed him.
He strode away, his cloak flapping as if he paid no attention to anyone around him.
“Goodness, he acts like that over a single woman… living long sure changes people.”
Mirham watched his departing back with an incredulous expression.
Above the white-bearded old man, who stroked his beard, the sun climbed high in the sky that day.
At that time, Roxelana was having tea in her palace with her half-brother Berhan.
“The new tea’s aroma is exquisite — it felt a shame to enjoy it alone. Brother, please, try some.”
“Haha, sister, you always take care of me like this — I have no reason to feel lonely even away from home. I’m grateful.”
Clink. The fragrant tea, brewed well, was poured into their cups; aside from two attendants, the other palace servants withdrew.
“A face I don’t recognize. Have you taken on a new attendant?”
“I’ve noticed more leaks from my palace lately. I specially selected people who wouldn’t overhear things.”
“Oh my, bringing in new people must be a bother — if you had told me in advance, I would have taken care of it for you. What a pity.”
“My, you’re dependable as ever.”
On the surface the scene looked like a pleasant, cozy conversation, but the words exchanged were chilling.
She sipped tea with impeccable grace, then set her cup down with a click and said,
“By the way, it seems Prince Suleiman caused quite a commotion last night. I would have liked to see that arrogant face contort — too bad I missed it.”
“I feel the same. Had I known in advance that the soothsayer’s cat would be in the same carriage as that woman Ishtar, I would have seen to removing her myself,” Berhan clicked his tongue regretfully.
Roxelana fell silent in apparent agreement.
In truth Roxelana had little interest in Ishtar.
Berhan kept Ishtar at his side simply because he needed someone to act on his behalf outside; it wasn’t out of trust.
She wanted someone she could put forward as a shield in the worst-case scenario.
Putting someone too clever in that position wasn’t good.
The suitably dim-witted Berhan fit the role perfectly.
Roxelana well understood that he liked to wield power, and she sometimes tolerated his foolishness when it came from power and wealth she provided.
When Berhan insisted on touching Ishtar, Roxelana’s flat reaction had been along those lines.
‘Ishtar… I recall seeing her once before.’
Roxelana vaguely remembered a woman she’d brushed past in Hurem’s greenhouse.
If, as rumor said, she possessed remarkable sexual power and could perform miraculous healings, why would she have been kept hidden until now?
‘Probably just another ploy to make her son the sultan.’
Even if Suleiman had completed his coming-of-age rite, keeping a mistress at his side already could stain his morality.
Unable to restrain a son bewitched by a woman, perhaps they planned to disguise her as a saint who saved citizens in trouble.
“…For a woman like that, it’s a shallow trick.”
“Pardon? What did you say?”
“Oh, it was nothing. The tea will get cold. Have some more.”
Roxelana smiled brightly and offered more tea; Berhan, who had tilted his head in puzzlement, didn’t press further.
‘Hurem is no match for me anyway.’
The current sultan, Hurem, had a few fatal weaknesses.
He was of low birth and had earned the resentment of established noble houses and the Janissaries — that was his greatest vulnerability.
Early in his rule, Hurem eliminated many high nobles under the pretext of stabilizing the kingdom, crushing dissent by force.
So even those who outwardly showed loyalty often harbored resentment.
Ambitious Roxelana planned to exploit that to the fullest.
But what really worried her was that her son Teron showed little interest in the sultan’s throne.
“Brother, what happened with the maid you tried to plant in Teron’s palace?”
“That… seems to have failed again. Mirham discovered their identities; they were all driven out of the capital.”
So the same result again. A faint crease formed between her brows.
Despite being her only child, Roxelana actually knew very little about Teron.
He carried out his organizations and businesses and even small actions secretly.
He didn’t share related matters with his mother Roxelana.
‘I need some clue at least — then I could try to persuade him. I must make Teron desire the sultanate himself.’
She wanted to watch his every move, but that was impossible.
“My palace should have Teron’s eyes and ears everywhere, yet as his mother I can’t seem to know a thing. It’s frustrating.”
Roxelana sighed thinly and pressed her throbbing temple.
Though he was her biological son, Teron was hard to understand. His carefully built organization was merely a toy to him; he showed no attachment to anything.
How could she move Teron’s heart?
Lost in those thoughts, a sudden commotion came from outside.
“Please wait a moment, Prince Teron. Lady Roxelana is currently receiving guests. You must announce yourself first—!”
Bang.
The reception room doors flew wide open and in strode none other than Teron himself.
“Ah, you two happen to be together. I’m glad I can avoid the trouble of visiting you separately.”
Teron greeted them with an exaggerated bow and a bright smile.
Berhan muttered sourly at his unexpected appearance.
“Goodness, impatient as ever. What urgent business do you have? Even if you’re a prince, it’s rude — you shouldn’t barge in while elders are talking.”
“That’s enough, Brother. That’s all.”
Roxelana raised a hand to stop him, and he immediately fell silent.
Berhan grumbled quietly, but no one paid him any mind.
“Well, what is it, Teron? You acting so hasty must mean something unusual.”
“I came to hear an explanation about yesterday’s matter.”
“Yesterday… you mean the attack on Diader’s stronghold? Prince Suleiman did try pretty hard. He tracked them all down.”
“Spare me Brother’s story. My interest lies elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?”
Roxelana, frowning, belatedly realized he referred to Ishtar.
“You mean the woman Hurem has been caring for? How surprising. I didn’t think you’d be interested in the sultan’s mistress.”
“Do not speak of her that way.”
“…What?”
“If you refer to Ishtar like that, I will not tolerate it — even if you are my mother.”
