This story was inspired by an excerpt from the book Shadow Spinner.

"I had heard tales of fountains running red with blood after the Sultan discovered his first wife with another man. He had slain her and all of her servents and slaves- every grown women in the harem; save for his own mother. The Sultan vowed then and there that no woman would ever deceive him again. That's why he started killing off his wives." ----- Shadow Spinner

Why, why Sabirah , why did you betray him? Why betray the Sultan, why him of all people! You knew the extent of his wrath, the power of his fury! You held all of our lives in your hands! And you threw them away, with your own selfishness! You, with your alluring, thick obsidian hair flowing freely down your back. You, with your smooth, flawless caramel skin. You, with your midnight pool eyes. You, with your serene, swan-like neck. You, with your sweetly curving breasts and swinging hips. Covered in gold of infinite wealth, a thing of unsurpassable, exquisite beauty. You, the narcissistic harlot. Here I pen this tale, as quickly as I can, for all to know your tale, Sabirah. And for all to know mine as well. I hear the pounding feet of the sultan now, can fairly see the gleam of his scimitar as he holds it, the furious wrath in his eyes. He comes now for me, now to kill me. You now must know my tale.

It began as a regular day in the harem. A day of fragile beauty, the jeweled tiles glistening on the floor, birds fluttering through the pear trees. I was, as usual, wandering through the courtyards, with nothing to do but laze around on one of the many couches provided. Sitting down with a sigh, I watched the many other women of the harem pass by, all of beauty. They passed in whispering, giggling packs, like lions. I was an outcast, and did not know what it was like to be part of a group like that; to be a predator, not prey. They pointed at me, whispering something. A tear rolled down my face, a cold line trickling down. Tasting its saltiness, I thought, 'What have I ever done to them? What have I done to deserve this?" I was as pretty as them, even more fair then some, be it a scant handful. I wiped it angrily away, and glared at them defiantly. But I found that it was only there backs I was gazing angrily at, not their faces. I settled back down, gazing at the floor. I did not hear her coming; nor did I see her. Only when I saw small, dainty, perfect feet in the spot where I was gazing, did I look up, up into the disgustingly lovely face of Sabirah. Those eyes, oh, those beautiful, treacherous eyes. They engulfed in their fury, their vengeful anger. "So," she said, cheeks splotched with red. "So, you think you are better than me. You think you would befit the station of Sultana?" Her fury rose higher and higher, the color deepening. Angrily, she raised a hand, and slapped me, unthinking. Oh, how I hated her, how I hated her so! I rose, my fury rising to match hers. I shoved her, and ran, ran as fast as I could, through halls of beauty, to my room. I quickly shut the curtain, and sank down on my bed, the silken smooth fabric of my dress mocking my sorrow. I did not know then, that my sorrow would only deepen soon.

He comes now, I see him; the door breaks,, he screams at me, telling me how treacherous I am, how treacherous we all are. The sword raises, and I know no more, only pain.

-------This has been the account of an unnamed women, killed by the Sultan on the day he was betrayed by Sabirah's love for another. On that day, it was said the fountains of the harem, all ran red with blood.