And I Darken
Page 58
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“No! With time, everyone will see that he will make a good sultan.”
Radu handed her the letter, which felt far heavier than the parchment could account for. “We do not have time.”
As Huma scanned it, her mouth drew down at both corners. Lines appeared between her eyes. “Constantinople. That damnable city.”
“It is the heart of everything,” Lada said. “The Janissaries do not want to fight there, and they fear Mehmed will lead them against its walls. Halil Pasha is obviously in contact with Constantinople, and the city itself is seeking Mehmed’s death. And Mehmed will make no secret of his goals, so it is impossible to persuade his enemies that his life should be spared.”
Huma’s voice came out in a whisper. “There must be another way. I have worked so long and so hard to get here.”
“This is not about you,” Lada snapped.
Huma’s face hardened. Radu leaned forward, desperate. He had to persuade her. “A dethroned son is of more value to you than a dead one. We keep him safe now so that when he comes back to the throne, he can truly rule. With you as the most powerful valide sultan the empire has ever seen.”
For a few eternal moments, Huma stayed exactly as she was. And then the stone left her face. Her eyelids were heavy with resignation. “Very well. I will set this in motion. Get out.”
Relief engulfed Radu. He and Lada stood to leave.
Huma’s tone resumed its normal lingering, teasing state. “You two are very good friends to my son.”
Radu beamed. They had made the right choice. But then Huma continued: “And very, very bad ones. Pray he never finds out what you have done today.”
Two weeks later, Lada and Radu rode beside Mehmed in the carriage, past the smoldering remains of buildings burned in the revolt. Out of Edirne. Toward Amasya.
As one, they stared at the passing countryside, carried away from all of Mehmed’s dreams.
Murad was back on the throne. Radu and Lada had not seen him or even mentioned his name, each too terrified to even whisper about what he might do if he remembered what he owed their father. All they had to do now was disappear into anonymity and hope no one realized that they should be dead.
And so Radu and Lada sat next to their one friend. Radu was relieved to be free of pressure. At least they were returning to Amasya. They had been happy there. Maybe they could be again.
But they were both silent in the shared secret of their escape, the truth that Mehmed could never know. Their secret was deeper and darker than the pool in the woods. Lada took her brother’s hand and squeezed it, a grip as painful as their new bond.
They had betrayed Mehmed.
1451: Amasya, Ottoman Empire
LADA SCREAMED, HER VOICE ripped away by the wind to trail behind her. She pushed her horse harder. Her quarry was close, nearly within reach, but they were fast approaching the trees and she would lose him once they got there. That could not happen.
One last burst of speed and she drew to within a hand’s length of the other horse. She threw her leg over the saddle, balancing on the side. With a battle cry, she launched herself from her horse and slammed into Radu.
He shouted in surprise, and she scrambled for a handhold. With her hand wrapped in his cloak for leverage, she threw her upper body over the saddle and grabbed the reins. Thrown off-balance, the horse veered wildly to the side, skidding to a stop so sudden both Lada and Radu tumbled to the ground.
“What is wrong with you?” Radu shouted, shoving her away. She rolled onto her back, the brilliant blue sky spinning above her.
She laughed.
“Have you lost what little wits you had to begin with? You could have killed us both!”
Still gasping with laughter, Lada patted Radu on the cheek, the force of it making a light slapping sound. “But I won.”
“You—” He jabbed a bruising finger against her arm. “You—” Finally, getting his breathing under control, Radu shook his head and smiled. “You cheated.”
“There is no such thing as cheating. There is only winning or losing. I won.”
“And if we had both died?”
“As long as you died first, I still would have counted it as winning.”
With an exhalation that might have been a laugh, Radu hurried to his horse, who stood nearby, eyes still wide with fright. He talked to it in low, soothing tones, stroking its long velvet nose. Lada looked around for her own steed. It was also nearby, under cover of the trees, peering out at them.
Probably hiding from her, smart beast.
Radu calmed and gathered both horses, and then held out a hand to Lada. She experienced her usual jolt of surprise and jealousy at finding his hand was larger than hers. She came to his chin, if she stood on the balls of her feet. Somewhere in the last two years, her baby brother had become a man. He had grown fast and straight and strong, the cherubic roundness of his cheeks slowly fading to reveal cheekbones and a jaw of stone. With no baby features to balance his large eyes, they were striking, a dark sweep of lashes framing them beneath thick brows. He wore his long, lazy curls tied at the base of his neck.
Radu handed her the letter, which felt far heavier than the parchment could account for. “We do not have time.”
As Huma scanned it, her mouth drew down at both corners. Lines appeared between her eyes. “Constantinople. That damnable city.”
“It is the heart of everything,” Lada said. “The Janissaries do not want to fight there, and they fear Mehmed will lead them against its walls. Halil Pasha is obviously in contact with Constantinople, and the city itself is seeking Mehmed’s death. And Mehmed will make no secret of his goals, so it is impossible to persuade his enemies that his life should be spared.”
Huma’s voice came out in a whisper. “There must be another way. I have worked so long and so hard to get here.”
“This is not about you,” Lada snapped.
Huma’s face hardened. Radu leaned forward, desperate. He had to persuade her. “A dethroned son is of more value to you than a dead one. We keep him safe now so that when he comes back to the throne, he can truly rule. With you as the most powerful valide sultan the empire has ever seen.”
For a few eternal moments, Huma stayed exactly as she was. And then the stone left her face. Her eyelids were heavy with resignation. “Very well. I will set this in motion. Get out.”
Relief engulfed Radu. He and Lada stood to leave.
Huma’s tone resumed its normal lingering, teasing state. “You two are very good friends to my son.”
Radu beamed. They had made the right choice. But then Huma continued: “And very, very bad ones. Pray he never finds out what you have done today.”
Two weeks later, Lada and Radu rode beside Mehmed in the carriage, past the smoldering remains of buildings burned in the revolt. Out of Edirne. Toward Amasya.
As one, they stared at the passing countryside, carried away from all of Mehmed’s dreams.
Murad was back on the throne. Radu and Lada had not seen him or even mentioned his name, each too terrified to even whisper about what he might do if he remembered what he owed their father. All they had to do now was disappear into anonymity and hope no one realized that they should be dead.
And so Radu and Lada sat next to their one friend. Radu was relieved to be free of pressure. At least they were returning to Amasya. They had been happy there. Maybe they could be again.
But they were both silent in the shared secret of their escape, the truth that Mehmed could never know. Their secret was deeper and darker than the pool in the woods. Lada took her brother’s hand and squeezed it, a grip as painful as their new bond.
They had betrayed Mehmed.
1451: Amasya, Ottoman Empire
LADA SCREAMED, HER VOICE ripped away by the wind to trail behind her. She pushed her horse harder. Her quarry was close, nearly within reach, but they were fast approaching the trees and she would lose him once they got there. That could not happen.
One last burst of speed and she drew to within a hand’s length of the other horse. She threw her leg over the saddle, balancing on the side. With a battle cry, she launched herself from her horse and slammed into Radu.
He shouted in surprise, and she scrambled for a handhold. With her hand wrapped in his cloak for leverage, she threw her upper body over the saddle and grabbed the reins. Thrown off-balance, the horse veered wildly to the side, skidding to a stop so sudden both Lada and Radu tumbled to the ground.
“What is wrong with you?” Radu shouted, shoving her away. She rolled onto her back, the brilliant blue sky spinning above her.
She laughed.
“Have you lost what little wits you had to begin with? You could have killed us both!”
Still gasping with laughter, Lada patted Radu on the cheek, the force of it making a light slapping sound. “But I won.”
“You—” He jabbed a bruising finger against her arm. “You—” Finally, getting his breathing under control, Radu shook his head and smiled. “You cheated.”
“There is no such thing as cheating. There is only winning or losing. I won.”
“And if we had both died?”
“As long as you died first, I still would have counted it as winning.”
With an exhalation that might have been a laugh, Radu hurried to his horse, who stood nearby, eyes still wide with fright. He talked to it in low, soothing tones, stroking its long velvet nose. Lada looked around for her own steed. It was also nearby, under cover of the trees, peering out at them.
Probably hiding from her, smart beast.
Radu calmed and gathered both horses, and then held out a hand to Lada. She experienced her usual jolt of surprise and jealousy at finding his hand was larger than hers. She came to his chin, if she stood on the balls of her feet. Somewhere in the last two years, her baby brother had become a man. He had grown fast and straight and strong, the cherubic roundness of his cheeks slowly fading to reveal cheekbones and a jaw of stone. With no baby features to balance his large eyes, they were striking, a dark sweep of lashes framing them beneath thick brows. He wore his long, lazy curls tied at the base of his neck.
