And I Darken
Page 100
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Radu signed them all without hesitation. And then, finally, Lazar left. Radu buried his face in his blanket, heart beating to the sorrow and joy of Mehmed, Mehmed, Mehmed.
“WHAT I WOULD NOT give for a roving band of Huns right now.” Nicolae sighed, lying flat on his back in the middle of the training ring. The dirt beneath him was packed hard by decades of feet. The low wooden walls of the ring were lined with pegs that held the equipment of the men who practiced there.
Like all days the last six months, the pegs were empty.
Tohin had left shortly after they destroyed the canyon. She had other outposts to visit, other soldiers to teach. Lada missed her. And she especially missed creating explosions. They could not even keep training with gunpowder, because there simply was not enough of it.
There was so little to do. Today, Petru and Matei were on patrol with Stefan. Lada did not know where her other troops were and found it nearly impossible to care. They were relegated to minor local duties to compensate for the lack of spahis and vali governors. Last week, they had investigated the theft of several pigs from a local farm. The thief, caught in the act, was a hole in the fence and a patch of truffles in the forest.
Even her hatred of Mehmed for leaving her had lost its spark, its flame dampened by the fear introduced with Tohin’s news of the siege. Increasingly she found herself thinking of him with regret. Fondness, even. Imagining what she would do if he were here. And then she stabbed those thoughts with her sharpest dagger, cut them right out of her mind. He could do without her, she could do as well without him. He would be fine. Without her.
She stood over Nicolae, looking down at him.
“Do you want to kiss me?” she asked.
Nicolae made a strange choking noise. “What?”
“Do you want to kiss me?” She did not feel things when she looked at Nicolae, but then, she had not felt so much for Mehmed before they kissed. Maybe the secret to successfully bleeding him from her veins was replacing him. She generally found Nicolae more than tolerable, and he was good at taking orders.
“Please take this in the kindest way possible,” he said, standing and walking backward to put more space between them, eyeing the knife she was toying with. “But I would sooner try to romance my horse. And I suspect my horse would enjoy it more than you.”
Lada lifted her nose in the air. “Your horse deserves better.”
“We can both agree on that.” Now relatively certain he was not about to be stabbed, Nicolae sat on the wall next to her. The fact that she was not upset over his rejection indicated that kissing him would have done nothing to alleviate her problems.
“I think of you like a sister,” he said. “Like a brilliant, violent, occasionally terrifying sister that I would follow to the ends of the earth, in part because I respected her so much and in part because I feared what she would do to me if I refused.”
She nodded. “I would do awful things.”
Nicolae laughed. “The most awful.”
“And then I would steal your horse lover, to spite you.”
“Your cruelty knows no bounds.”
Lada stood, stretching, wishing she had somewhere to go. She could no longer retreat to the forest like she used to. A phantom voice followed her there now, whispering whore in her ear, the smell of dirt conjuring memories she preferred to leave buried.
“I am going to patrol the grounds,” she said.
Nicolae nodded, then his jovial face turned serious. “I mean it, you know. I will follow you to the ends of the earth.”
An unusual warmth spread through her chest. She looked away, trying to twist the smile off her lips. “Of course you will.”
She made her way to the massive front gate of the fortress, feeling more buoyant than she had in weeks. Whatever else happened, she had her men. She had her command. And that was something, at least.
A messenger, wearing the dust of leagues on his cloak, rode a weary horse up to the gate. He pulled a bag off his shoulder and held it out. “Letters from Albania.”
“I will take them.” Lada grabbed the bag and called a servant. They sorted through the letters. Most were for servants who had family attending the soldiers, a few for her men from friends in the siege. It had been over a month since they had had any news, and it was all she could do not to open those letters.
Then she came to a letter addressed to her. Her heart twisted, squeezing up too high and making it difficult to breathe. Had Mehmed finally written her?
Leaving the servant without a word, she retreated to her room in the barracks. She set the letter on her desk, pacing around it, eyeing it with suspicion as though it might disappear. What would it say? What did she want it to say? After all this time, what could he say to make her forgive him?
“WHAT I WOULD NOT give for a roving band of Huns right now.” Nicolae sighed, lying flat on his back in the middle of the training ring. The dirt beneath him was packed hard by decades of feet. The low wooden walls of the ring were lined with pegs that held the equipment of the men who practiced there.
Like all days the last six months, the pegs were empty.
Tohin had left shortly after they destroyed the canyon. She had other outposts to visit, other soldiers to teach. Lada missed her. And she especially missed creating explosions. They could not even keep training with gunpowder, because there simply was not enough of it.
There was so little to do. Today, Petru and Matei were on patrol with Stefan. Lada did not know where her other troops were and found it nearly impossible to care. They were relegated to minor local duties to compensate for the lack of spahis and vali governors. Last week, they had investigated the theft of several pigs from a local farm. The thief, caught in the act, was a hole in the fence and a patch of truffles in the forest.
Even her hatred of Mehmed for leaving her had lost its spark, its flame dampened by the fear introduced with Tohin’s news of the siege. Increasingly she found herself thinking of him with regret. Fondness, even. Imagining what she would do if he were here. And then she stabbed those thoughts with her sharpest dagger, cut them right out of her mind. He could do without her, she could do as well without him. He would be fine. Without her.
She stood over Nicolae, looking down at him.
“Do you want to kiss me?” she asked.
Nicolae made a strange choking noise. “What?”
“Do you want to kiss me?” She did not feel things when she looked at Nicolae, but then, she had not felt so much for Mehmed before they kissed. Maybe the secret to successfully bleeding him from her veins was replacing him. She generally found Nicolae more than tolerable, and he was good at taking orders.
“Please take this in the kindest way possible,” he said, standing and walking backward to put more space between them, eyeing the knife she was toying with. “But I would sooner try to romance my horse. And I suspect my horse would enjoy it more than you.”
Lada lifted her nose in the air. “Your horse deserves better.”
“We can both agree on that.” Now relatively certain he was not about to be stabbed, Nicolae sat on the wall next to her. The fact that she was not upset over his rejection indicated that kissing him would have done nothing to alleviate her problems.
“I think of you like a sister,” he said. “Like a brilliant, violent, occasionally terrifying sister that I would follow to the ends of the earth, in part because I respected her so much and in part because I feared what she would do to me if I refused.”
She nodded. “I would do awful things.”
Nicolae laughed. “The most awful.”
“And then I would steal your horse lover, to spite you.”
“Your cruelty knows no bounds.”
Lada stood, stretching, wishing she had somewhere to go. She could no longer retreat to the forest like she used to. A phantom voice followed her there now, whispering whore in her ear, the smell of dirt conjuring memories she preferred to leave buried.
“I am going to patrol the grounds,” she said.
Nicolae nodded, then his jovial face turned serious. “I mean it, you know. I will follow you to the ends of the earth.”
An unusual warmth spread through her chest. She looked away, trying to twist the smile off her lips. “Of course you will.”
She made her way to the massive front gate of the fortress, feeling more buoyant than she had in weeks. Whatever else happened, she had her men. She had her command. And that was something, at least.
A messenger, wearing the dust of leagues on his cloak, rode a weary horse up to the gate. He pulled a bag off his shoulder and held it out. “Letters from Albania.”
“I will take them.” Lada grabbed the bag and called a servant. They sorted through the letters. Most were for servants who had family attending the soldiers, a few for her men from friends in the siege. It had been over a month since they had had any news, and it was all she could do not to open those letters.
Then she came to a letter addressed to her. Her heart twisted, squeezing up too high and making it difficult to breathe. Had Mehmed finally written her?
Leaving the servant without a word, she retreated to her room in the barracks. She set the letter on her desk, pacing around it, eyeing it with suspicion as though it might disappear. What would it say? What did she want it to say? After all this time, what could he say to make her forgive him?
