“You traded sisters.”
Radu laughed, but more from guilt than happiness. “He said the same thing. I got by far the better end of the trade.” Radu was enormously in Kumal’s debt.
“And what will you do after we get back? Will you go to Constantinople again?”
Radu guided their horses past the outskirts of Bursa, to the roads that would take them to Fatima. “I do not know. And I do not care. I have you, and you have Fatima. I have fulfilled all my promises. I am tired. And I am happy.” The clouds had cleared, and the sky was brilliantly blue, promising a gentle journey. It was not as cold as it had been heading toward Wallachia. Everything felt warmer with Nazira at his side, though.
The future was blank, and Radu did not mind. He had Nazira back, and soon Kumal would return and be reunited with them. Cyprian was safe. Mehmed would have Lada again, and for once Radu did not feel anything about that. If she was imprisoned, she would be less likely to be killed. And she would certainly be doing less killing. As far as Mehmed’s feelings for her, Radu was numb. This last horrible chapter of his time in Constantinople was closed. Everyone he loved was safe. Radu was going home for good.
Near Giurgiu
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” The Janissary scout glowered at Lada’s men, who were all wearing Janissary uniforms. The ones in front spoke Turkish. The ones in the back were silent. “We expected you yesterday.”
“We had some complications,” Bogdan growled. In fact, they were the complications. The previous day they had ambushed a group of Janissary reinforcements heading toward the Giurgiu fortress. Today, they had become those Janissaries. Lada stood, anonymous, in the middle of her men. The Wallachians who had not grown up as Janissaries were behind her so they could follow her cues. They did not know how to behave as Janissaries, but they knew how to mimic.
Nicolae rode in front as their leader. He stopped beside Bogdan to talk with the scout. They were still a few hours from the fortress, so the scout must have been sent to look for them. Lada worked her way closer so she could eavesdrop. Insects just beginning to reemerge from the deep freeze of winter flitted through the crisp air, landing on trees speckled with green hints of buds. Getting here had been a muddy, roundabout trek, but they had to make certain they had Janissary uniforms and arrived after Radu.
“What is the plan at the fortress?” Nicolae asked.
“You do not know?”
Nicolae shrugged, indifferent. “We go where they tell us. We were told to come here. That is all I know.”
“You frontier forces are as bad as spahis sometimes.”
Nicolae moved closer, toying with the hilt of his weapon. His pleasant voice took on a dangerous tone appropriate to that level of a Janissary insult. The spahis were the elite, landed men, not the lifetime soldiers Janissaries were. There was no small amount of rivalry between the two. Spahis had the privilege, but Janissaries had the prestige and often the preference of the sultan. “You should take that back,” Nicolae said.
The man waved his hands. “Sorry. It can be frustrating, being stationed at an outpost. We get all the news but none of the action. We are here with some pasha. The bitch who declared herself prince of Wallachia is on her way to sign new terms of vassalage.”
Nicolae picked idly at his teeth. “Why do you need so many extra men for that?”
The scout shrugged, scratching under his signature white-flapped cap. “You heard how many she killed in Bulgaria?”
Nicolae grunted. “We were in Serbia. Been marching ever since. I still cannot believe the numbers.”
“Well”—the soldier leaned closer conspiratorially—“they gave me no specifics, but I have a feeling we are not really here to make a deal. Too many men, and a wagon with bars and shackles. I think we are here to take her back for punishment.”
Lada bit back a smile. It was gratifying that Radu still knew not to underestimate her. He had laid a trap to accomplish her same goal. She almost laughed at the irony of going to kidnap her brother, who was here to kidnap her.
Nicolae actually laughed. “Easy enough to take one woman. I still do not understand why you requested so many extra men. I hate traveling during this time of year. Snowstorms just when you get comfortable. Rain otherwise. Mud everywhere. It takes forever to clean my uniform.”
“After Bulgaria, I think the pasha is spooked. Wants extra protection.”
“How many men already in the fortress?”
“A thousand.”
“Hmm.” Nicolae sounded mildly impressed. Lada was flattered. It was a significant investment of men for what they anticipated to be easy trickery. The Janissary troop they had ambushed and killed on the way here had been two hundred strong. So she had two hundred of her men with her, and another five hundred following at a distance.
“How many men do we expect her to bring?” Nicolae asked.
“No more than a personal guard. I like our chances.” The Janissary laughed brightly. “You should be glad you got such an easy assignment.”
Nicolae grunted. “Good thing it will be easy, since we will do all the work, as usual. I met Radu Bey once years ago, at the siege of Kruje. He had to wear brown pants to cover constantly shitting himself in fear. He still that way?”
“I would not know. He is not here.”
Lada hissed in surprise. Bogdan coughed to cover the noise.
Nicolae rushed another question. “But I thought Radu Bey was the lure? He is her brother, is he not? Who would come but him?”
The scout paused, eyeing Nicolae with sudden scrutiny and doubtless regretting his loose tongue. “I thought you did not know much about this.”
Nicolae grinned. “I am full of surprises.”
Lada drew her knife, jumping in front of the scout and knocking him to the ground. She straddled him, her knife against his throat.
“Who are you?” he gasped.
“I am the bitch who butchered thousands. Tell me: How do you like your chances now?”
His face went white.
“Where is Radu?”
“I do not know,” the scout said, rapid, shallow breaths betraying his panic. But he did not yet realize he was dead. He spoke fast, as though he could talk his way free. “Radu broke away from the group before they got here. I never met him.”
“Who is in his place?”
“Kumal Pasha.”
Lada’s muscles clenched instinctively, recoiling from that name. Unfortunately for the scout, her twitch sliced through his jugular vein. Lada stood as he bled out onto the forest floor.
“He might have had more information,” Nicolae said, frowning.
“Accident.” Lada picked up the dying scout’s cap and used the white flaps to clean her blade. Kumal, not Radu, was waiting for her.
All her old resentment flared to life, burning hot and hungry. Once again, Kumal Pasha had taken her brother from her. He was the reason Radu had willingly accepted their captivity among the Ottomans. Certainly, Radu had loved Mehmed. But Lada had loved him, too, and still been able to walk away. Radu, however, had been poisoned from his childhood by the god that Kumal gave to him. It was Radu’s false faith that separated him from Lada, his false faith that joined him forever to their enemies. Kumal had even claimed him as a brother through marriage, further cutting Radu off from his true family and heritage.
Now Kumal had again taken her brother from her. Instead of riding back to the city with Radu at her side—willing or not—she was once again left bereft. Gritting her teeth, she sheathed her blade.
“What now?” Nicolae asked. “We do not know where Radu is.”
“I will not go back to Tirgoviste empty-handed.” Lada started marching toward the fortress. “The plan is the same. Infiltrate. Bring someone back.”
But unlike the Ottoman plan for her, he would not be alive.
* * *
They waited until
darkness obscured their ranks.
“Hey!” Nicolae called as they marched up to the gate. “Is she here yet?”
A man shouted back down, “You know women. They are always late.”
“We are tired and hungry. Open the gate.” Nicolae kicked it for good measure.
The gates opened, and Lada and her two hundred Janissary-uniformed men filed in. The rest were hidden and circling the fortress.
“Where is everyone?” Nicolae gestured at the empty courtyard. A few solitary torches threw more shadow than light. A handful of men were visible on the walls, black silhouettes against the night sky. But they all looked outward, not in, where the threat already was.
“In bed. You are too late for a cot. It is the floor for you as punishment.”
“I curse every mile of this forsaken country for it.” Nicolae put an arm around the guard. Then the guard slumped to the side.
“The barracks first,” Lada said, keeping her voice low. “Kill them quietly. Then spread out and take the walls. I will find Kumal.”
She stalked forward, trusting her men to follow Nicolae, Bogdan, and their other leaders. After entering the fortress, she killed the guards in the hallways, as silent as a shadow, until she came to a living area. She took a torch from several lining the wall. The first bedroom was empty. The second held her target.
She kicked the bed. “Wake up.”
Kumal Pasha sat up, eyes wide and blinking in the flickering light. She had never seen him without a turban. He was mostly bald, his scalp paler than his face.
“Lada Dragwlya,” he said, recognition of the situation settling his features from surprise to sadness.
“Lada Dracul,” she corrected. “Prince.”
He had the audacity to tip his head respectfully, as though he was not here to kidnap her. As though he had not stolen her treasured chance to get her brother and hurt Mehmed in one easy step.
“Where is Radu?”
“He went to get Nazira. She had been lost since the city fell, and—”
Lada waved the torch through the air, cutting him off. “I do not care what your sister was doing. Always the two of you have worked together to take my brother from me.”
“He wanted to be here,” Kumal said softly.
“Was this his idea? Kidnapping me?”
“Yes. We did not like the deceit, but he said it was necessary.”
Lada laughed, and it flickered warmly in her chest. “Well, I was coming to kidnap him, so it appears we have more in common than we thought.”
“Come back with me. The sultan cares for you. He will deal fairly. You cannot continue on this path.”
“What path do you think I am on?” Lada wanted to strike him. His calm demeanor was infuriating.
“You have what you wanted, but you are not happy. You lash out and make others suffer. Those are not the actions of a person at peace with their past and future.”
Lada snarled. “You know nothing about me or my past.”
“I know your brother’s past. And I know that he can still find happiness even in the darkest of circumstances, because his faith sustains him. What sustains you?”
“The blood of my enemies,” she said.
Edirne
NAZIRA HAD NOT EXAGGERATED her intentions. She let go of Fatima only when absolutely necessary. Radu leaned back on his cushion, smiling to himself as Nazira tried to navigate eating dinner while keeping hold of Fatima’s hand at all times.
“When will you return to the country home?” Radu asked. He knew that was where the two women were happiest. They had been in Edirne to help him, and since the siege was over and everyone was finally safe, he no longer needed help. But he would miss them. Living without Nazira these past terrifying months had been torture. It would be different, knowing she was content, but he still anticipated her absence with tremendous sadness.
“We are not going back,” Fatima said.
“What?”
Nazira let go of Fatima’s hand, but only to twist a lock of Fatima’s hair around her fingers and stroke it. “We talked about it last night. Fatima and I will stay wherever you are.”
“But Fatima hates to be away from home!”
Fatima’s smile was sweet and shy. “Our family is my home.”
Nazira’s smile was as firm and determined as anything she set her mind to. “We are settled on this. We are never being separated again.”
Radu could not deny the wash of relief he felt. He did not want to ask this of them. But he had not asked—they had offered. And, having lived so long without honesty and without love, he would not reject it.
“Thank you.” He hoped they felt how much those two words conveyed. “I will ask Mehmed to give me a position in the countryside, somewhere with fewer memories.”
“We will make new ones.” Fatima rested her head on Nazira’s shoulder.
“Also,” Nazira said, teasingly popping a grape into her wife’s mouth, “we would like to have a baby.”
Radu choked on his bread.
His choking was interrupted by a firm knock. He stood so fast he tripped over his cushion. “I will see who it is.”
He could hear Nazira laughing as he hurried out of the room and through the hall. At the front door he found a messenger wearing Mehmed’s seal.
“The sultan, his magnificence Mehmed the Second, Caesar of Rome and the Hand of God on Earth, requests your presence immediately in Constantinople.” He gestured to direct Radu’s attention to a team of horses waiting in the street.
Lada, Radu thought. It had worked, then. He wondered what Mehmed thought Radu could accomplish. She would never accept captivity, just as she had not before. And Radu could do nothing to help that. Still, he would go. He would do what Mehmed asked, because he did not know how to do anything else.
The idea of seeing Lada terrified him. He was not the same person she had left behind. He could not imagine her, though, as anyone but who she had always been. And he did not want to see how she would judge him and find him lacking.
But having Nazira and Fatima with him would give him the strength to remember things could—and should—be different. He would ask Mehmed for a new position immediately. These were no longer his problems to handle. It was not a betrayal of his friend or his sister to be honest about that. Lada and Mehmed had chosen power. Neither had chosen him.
Radu could walk away.
The messenger cleared his throat. Radu had been standing there, silent, lost in his own history.
“Give me a few minutes to gather my things.” Radu closed the door gently. He turned to find Nazira and Fatima standing in the hallway. His smile felt like the first layer of ice on a river in winter. Cold and fragile. “I have been summoned to Constantinople. Your resolve is tested sooner than we thought.”
Fatima surprised him by speaking first. “We have already packed for just such a scenario.” She disappeared upstairs.
Nazira fixed a wry smile on Radu. “You cannot get away from this conversation by an urgent summons to the city. And think of all that time on the road we will have to talk about adding to our family!”
It turned out there was, in fact, something even more terrifying than Lada.
* * *
Radu had been saved on the long ride to Constantinople by the addition to their party of a minor bey, summoned on a matter of tax revenue. Though Radu had never met him before, he quickly became the man’s best friend by encouraging him to tell them every detail of his entire life.
Nazira watched and waited, an amused twinkle in her eyes. Radu had not gotten out of the conversation about…their family. He was only delaying the inevitable. But he would take every delay he could get.
As they passed through the walls and into Constantinople, Fatima gazed around in wonder. They had traveled all night—an urgency that had been demanded by Mehmed, apparently�
�and so entered Constantinople as a warm, golden dawn bathed it in softest light. Radu tried to see it as Fatima would: without ghosts, without blood, without the weight of memories heavier than the stones of the walls. Nazira reached across the space between them and squeezed his hand. “He has made it beautiful.”
But she kept her eyes firmly on her own hands.
Though morning had barely broken, the sounds of hammers and construction already rang like music through the air as they reached the palace. A servant met them, directing the tax-busied bey elsewhere and bidding Radu’s company to follow.
“We will help your sister,” Nazira murmured at Radu’s side. “However we can. We will see you through this.”
Radu tried to smile his gratitude, but his jaw was clenched too tightly. Lada had never wanted his help growing up, and when she had finally asked for it, he had refused. And now he had trapped her. A pit of dread opened in his stomach as the servant gestured to a door and bowed. Radu was not familiar with this room, but the palace had numerous receiving areas.
Taking a deep breath, Radu strode forward, followed by Nazira and Fatima.
Mehmed stood from the sofa he had been sitting on. Radu swept his eyes over the room. Mehmed was alone. Was Lada so feral with rage, then, that she was already in a cell?
Mehmed looked behind Radu at Nazira and Fatima, who both bowed prettily. Radu remembered to do the same. When he straightened, Mehmed was still staring at Nazira. His imperious features would have revealed nothing to one who did not know him. But Radu knew him.
Mehmed did not want to utter whatever he had to say next.
“What is it?” Radu asked, the pit of dread growing ever deeper. “Where is Lada?”
Mehmed shook his head. “She is not here.”
Radu’s chest tightened. He closed his eyes, reassuring himself. She was not dead. She could not be dead. That was not what Mehmed meant! He meant she was in another building. Radu would get her nicer accommodations than the dank prison cells he had seen when interrogating a prisoner on behalf of Constantine. It was the absolute least he could do. “Where are you keeping her?”
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