(To clarify things, I'm combining as many of the offered options as I can.)
“B-But what can we do?” Amara asked. “Khalifa is the sultan’s favorite. He would never punish her for anything.”
“What he does or doesn’t do won’t matter after tonight,” Kyla replied, gazing at the curtained doorway.
Amara looked up at her. “Tonight? What’s happening tonight?”
The guardswoman blinked as if distracted by something. Smiling, she caressed Amara’s cheek. “Don’t worry about that, little dove. All will explain itself in the end. Only know that everything I do from this point on is for your sake. Remember this.”
The slave girl frowned at her lover and guardian. “Why are you telling me this? You’re acting very strange, Ky-”
Before she could finish, a group of masked men stormed into the room, swords drawn.
The noise attracted a few of the other harem girls and guards. “What is the meaning of this intrusion!?” Khalifa shouted, striding up to them. “Men are not allowed in the seraglio! You will be severely punished when the sul-”
Without speaking the closest man simply stepped forward and ran her through with his blade. It happened so quickly that Amara’s mind could not even register what she had witnessed until the girl slid to the floor, staring down at her mortal wound with incomprehension as blood pooled around her. Then, screams broke out and all went to chaos. The intruders charged forward, cutting down anyone in their way. Several guards and eunuchs rushed to confront them, and the sound of clashing weapons rang in the perfumed air.
Kyla shoved Amara back. “Hurry! Hide somewhere and stay there until I come get you! Go!”
As Amara ran to obey, Kyla drew her own sword and yelled, “To me, my sisters!”
Against her better judgment, Amara looked back. She could see that any guardswomen not already engaged in battle had gathered into formation around Kyla. With a roar of fury, they charged into the fray. Despite their skill, the men were also well-trained, and some of the women began to fall.
Tears stung Amara’s eyes as she forced herself to turn away and run farther into the chain of rooms that formed the seraglio. Coming to the last room, she stopped and scanned her surroundings. Feeling like a trapped rat, she wrenched open a small cabinet and climbed inside. Thankfully, being somewhat small in build, she managed to wedge herself into the tiny space and close the door. Curled up in the darkness, she squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears against the horrible sounds filtering through the room.
People were dying. That much was certain. But who? And why? Why would anyone attack a harem?
Thousands of similar questions whirled in Amara’s brain as the minutes ticked by. Slowly, the battle had gotten quieter, though that only made it more unbearable. Did this mean Kyla had won, or had all the guards been killed, leaving the intruders free to finish off any survivors at their leisure? Suddenly, after one last blood-curdling shriek, all went silent.
Amara hardly dared to breathe. She hoped the guardswomen had come out victorious, and if they had not, she prayed that these murderers would assume their job completed and just leave. For a while, only her hammering heartbeat reached her straining ears.
“A-Amara?”
The voice was almost a whisper, but the harem girl recognized it and almost whimpered in relief. “Kyla!” Pushing the cabinet door open, she tried to crawl back out. Her exit became a tumble as all her limbs had fallen asleep. Warm, strong arms caught her limp body, and desperate lips mashed into her own.
When the guard broke off, they both stared at one another as if each feared the other would vanish. To Amara’s dismay, Kyla had suffered a number of cuts, and splashes of blood stained her torn uniform. “What happened?” Amara asked, but Kyla put a finger to her lips.
“We must get out of here. Come with me.”
The stronger woman hauled the smaller behind her as they fled back through the seraglio. Amara’s eyes lingered over one room after another. Each space seemed untouched, as peaceful and cushioned as if nothing had gone wrong. Then, as they entered into the final two, a scene of utter devastation greeted her. Bodies lay all around, male and female, slave, guard, eunuch, and intruder all strewn amongst each other where they had fallen. And blood. Blood everywhere.
Holding her free hand to her mouth, Amara tried not to retch. Kyla went on, stepping over bodies when necessary. Pausing at the threshold to the hall outside, she leaned over the slumped form of an intruder with a sword still jutting from his chest. To Amara’s surprise, the woman grabbed the man’s mask and pulled it off. The face revealed meant nothing to her, but Kyla, who knew far more people than she did, let out a gasp. “He’s one of the sultan’s men! It’s as I feared. The sultan must have sent them.”
Amara paled. The idea that the kind, dignified man who visited her and the other girls would order such a thing was unthinkable. “Why would the sultan do this?”
“He must have discovered…” Kyla stopped herself with a look of guilt.
“Discovered what?”
“Nothing. Come. We must go.”