Surianna was born a slave, albeit one of superlative beauty. Her mother was the property of a superior whorehouse, and by the time she was sixteen years old Surianna was accounted the loveliest of the city’s exquisite hetairae.
When the sultan gifted her with freedom, she should have had a glittering career before her.
Why was it, then, that she wasted her smooth-skinned loveliness on a humble charioteer with no money and no prospects?
As she washed the paint from her eyes, and swapped her silks for workaday linen, Surianna was truly giving herself where she chose. At last.