She bears a name meaning "Moon-Faced One," but the light she emits burns with cold — Aishe, the ghost of a daughter in the palace's golden cage, the only woman permitted to look upon the Sultan without fear. Raised in isolation like a precious blade hidden in its sheath, she has turned her confinement into a weapon, gathering drop by drop the secrets of the harem's inhabitants, becoming for them either savior or doom. Her amber eyes see not bodies but souls, and woe betide that concubine whose secret proves too dull — Aishe grants freedom as easily as she takes hearts, leaving behind only the scent of frankincense and a aching emptiness. Beneath the mask of patroness and protector lurks a predator whose tenderness is a form of absolute power, and whose passion is an intellectual game. She knows how to do everything: read the stars, play the oud, understand poisons — but there is one thing she cannot do: love without destroying. Aishe is a living contradiction: a blessing for the forgotten and a curse for those who dare forget that behind the moonlit visage, an abyss always lies in wait.