The Blood Queen

The rain pelted down onto my tent, the noise almost becoming deafening. The plate of meat and rice in front of me was in danger of going cold, but I couldn’t stomach eating any further. My grand plans of taking Bulgaria by the balls were failing and much quicker than anybody had expected.

“Sultan,” one of the guards spoke through the thin material of the tent.

“Proceed,” I replied, sitting back as my vizier Yemi entered the space, his hands clasped in front of him. Yemi had been my second in command since I was born, my own father’s vizier died with him and Yemi was a brother to me, his dark hair thick, his eyes baring down at me, looking concerned. “What is it?” I asked him, sitting up straighter.

“Sultan Hakan, we seem to have a visitor,” he trailed off, but I saw his small smile there, one of cheekiness and pleasure. There wasn’t much to be happy about during the three weeks we had been camped outside the main city of Bulgaria, so this better be good.

“Is it the head of the Bulgarian military?” I shrugged, trying to avoid rolling my eyes at Yemi.

“No such luck, but a young woman who tells us she has news for you.” Yemi opened the flap, and a tall guard pushed a young woman into the tent, her landing hard onto her hands and knees. I stood from my red chair, to get a closer look thanks to the minimal light coming from the oil lamps at each corner of the space. I stared down at the woman, her dark hair was wavy, dropping onto the dark floor, her back arched.

“Sit up,” I demanded, and she slowly moved her head up, her hands to her chest. Her eyes were a mixture of green and hazel, tears pooled at the bottom. “What’s your name?” I barked at her, and she closed her eyes, her tears dropping onto her cheeks.

“Azra,” she whispered, her accent was difficult to pinpoint, and I looked over at Yemi, his arms crossed over his chest. As Azra opened her eyes again, she stared up at me, chewing her full bottom lip. Her skin was practically flawless, tanned in colour, similar to my own.

“Where are you from Azra?” I asked, walking backwards slightly.

“Bosnia,” her voice was tiny, and I looked back at Yemi, to try and figure out what he was thinking, without any words being said. His smile had gone, his face stoic, staring down at the woman.

“Are you a spy?” I asked her and she let out a sob, pushing her hair out of her face.

“No, your majesty, I have news from Bulgaria,” she whimpered, and it was then I noticed her body. She had marks up and down both of her arms, her linen dress was thin, far too thin for this weather and her waist was slim, like she had not eaten a good meal in some time.

“Spit it out then,” Yemi said, his voice firm.

“In two nights, your navy will be attacked,” she explained, suddenly her voice stronger than it had ever been.

“And you know this how?” I responded. My knowledge of military, Europe and the Islamic world had been forced down my throat since I was a child, so it hadn’t come as a huge shock that such a woman would approach us, the Ottoman’s.

“I heard my master discussing the plans at breakfast-“

“You’re a slave?” I cut over Azra and she nodded, her hair falling back into her face. “How do I know your being truthful and not spying for the Bulgarians?” I asked her, Yemi chuckling quietly.

“You don’t,” she squeaked out and I appreciated the honesty. “They do not deserve good fortune, as they do not give it out,” Azra whispered and I sighed, sitting back at the chair, my food definitely now cold.

“Azra, do you know what I can do to you if you are spying?” I wondered, before putting some rice into my mouth, watching as she stared over at me. Her eyes felt like they were burning my skin, taking in every single detail of my face. My own eyes were golden brown, my dark beard short and my strong jaw provided me with multiple invitations from women, however now I had a war to fight, finding a wife could wait, I was only twenty-one.

“Death,” came her response.

“A very painful one, which I would take no enjoyment from,” I sighed, pointing to the wooden chair in front of me, directly next to the table which held my dinner. Yemi knew of what I meant, dragging Azra up and quite forcefully making her sit on the uncomfortable chair. “What languages do you speak?” I wondered, nodding to Yemi who made his way outside of the tent, the wind echoing inside as he opened the flap.

“Multiple,” Azra responded, her hands in her lap.

“I didn’t ask how many, I asked what languages.” I pushed the plate of food towards her, watching intently as she took a small piece of meat, chewing before she answered me.

“Bosnian, Bulgarian, Turkish, Arabic and Persian, your majesty,” she looked up at me. That had surprised me, she clearly was an intelligent woman, her thinness being so much more obvious, now she was sitting opposite me.

“Why did you come here? What is it to you if I fail?” I sat up straighter, feeling my brow cross. Currently I had no ideas or thoughts on how I could get into the Bulgarian city, all of my other attempts had failed. Regardless they had experienced soldiers, but we outnumbered them, which was what was causing my frustration. My father had won many battles and from the moment he died I had promised myself and my mother that I would do better, that I would be better than him. Many in our kingdom had second guessed me on the throne and if anything, I was cocky, overconfident but inside I really had no clue on what to do next.

“I don’t want any more death, and I wanted to escape Bulgaria,” she told me honestly and I stood, opening the flap out into the cold, rainy field. Yemi was standing with another vizier, Omar, who was a man of my father, old, brittle and I couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

“Grand vizier,” I made a point of directing my words to Yemi. “Keep the woman in camp, no harm comes to her until two nights have passed,” I told him, and I walked back into the tent, Yemi and Omar behind me.

“Sultan, I’m unsure if this is a good idea,” Omar interjected but I never listened to him, unsure why he believed I would now.

“Azra, what more can you tell me about the plans?” I asked her, taking off my long black kaftan, placing it behind my chair. She looked over at the two other men, fear in her eyes.

“The attack will come at the dead of night, destroying your boats and then your men who come to their aid,” Azra swallowed hard, and I caught Yemi’s eye, his brain ticking over, I could see it all over his face.

“Take her,” I threw my hand out, sitting back at my chair as Yemi grabbed Azra’s arm, pulling her up.

“Your majesty, please,” she sobbed, and I looked up at her, she was petrified but for her to come over to the enemy told me her life was even worse there.

“Two nights, then you get your freedom,” I nodded, Yemi pulling her out of the tent.

“Sultan, I find it hard to believe a man of your power believes a slave woman,” Omar chuckled, and I pushed my plate away, leaning back on my chair. Omar’s face was wrinkled, his dark eyes always gave me a sense of evil, even from when I was a young child.

“What have we got to lose?” I shrugged, we really didn’t have any other up and coming plans and before I knew it morale would get low within the camp, forcing me back to Turkey.

“Bring me Demir,” I demanded, watching Omar sigh, leaving the tent. He was one sigh away from me taking his head off, but I needed to deal with the Bulgarians first.