And I Darken (The Conquerors Saga #1)(103)

“Tell me,” Lada said, her thoughts of snakes and gardens and seeds and duties now muddied with steam-swirled, improbable ideas of pleasure beyond kissing. “What do you do to make your women happy?”

Mehmed’s mouth drew taut, his eyes narrowed shrewdly. “My women? What are you speaking of?”

“Your harem. They exist to serve you. They give you sons.” She spat the word out. “What do you do for them?”

“I do not wish to speak of that with you. You know I have to—”

“This is not about what you have to do! Do you like them? Do you love them? Which of them do you love best?”

“I do not know! They are— It is different. It is like the man who carries my stool. I neither like nor dislike him. He is there to serve a purpose. Why do you want to talk about this?”

“Because I want to know if you have ever, even once, thought of what might bring them pleasure! Or is it entirely a transaction, part of the business of being sultan? Are they as stools to you?”

His brows drew close together, his expression pained. “Which answer do you want, Lada? Which would make it better?”

She backed up. “I do not know.”

He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, eyes on the floor and voice uncharacteristically tentative. “If you wanted to…I would do whatever you wanted, whatever you needed for us to be together. Anything.”

With a sharp rap preceding him, Nicolae opened the door. Lada jumped guiltily away from Mehmed. Nicolae grinned, oblivious to the atmosphere in the room.

“We are not due for a changing of the guard for another hour, when you will accompany me to the royal treasury,” Mehmed snapped, sitting down.

Nicolae bowed deeply. “My anticipation is so strong it is physically painful to wait even that long. But I am not here for you, my father. Lada, I have a surprise for you. Come out.”

“Bring it in here.” Mehmed slouched on his chair, scowling.

Nicolae shrugged, but his scarred face was unable to conceal his glee as he stepped aside.

A man walked into the room, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, thick in his movements. He wore a Janissary uniform. Lada was about to shout at Nicolae that a new recruit was hardly worth the interruption, until she saw what the man’s cap failed to cover.

Two ears that stuck out like the handles on a jug.

His grin felt like all of Wallachia reaching out to draw her home. “Lada,” Bogdan said.

She ran forward and threw herself at him. He did not hesitate, wrapping his arms around her and spinning her in a circle. She buried her face in his neck, unable to believe it was real. Bogdan, her Bogdan, lost to her so long ago.

Alive. Here. Hers.

“Who are you?” Mehmed demanded.

Without putting Lada down, Bogdan answered in a voice deeper than the one she had known, but so very him that it made her feel like a child again. “I am her husband.”

Lada laughed, smacking the back of his head. He lowered her, but she kept a hand on his shoulder. She had to make certain he was real and he was not leaving.

“I hardly think our marriage was binding.” She took his hands in hers, his fingers short and callused. His face had broadened, his features fitting better now that he had grown into them. He was sturdy, strong, exactly how she would have imagined him had she had the heart to let herself.

“Will you please explain?” Mehmed asked. His face was as coldly and precisely arranged as a floor of tiles.

“This is Bogdan. My oldest friend. His mother was my nurse, and we grew up tormenting her and Radu. He was lost to me, so long ago. I thought him lost forever! Oh, Bogdan.” She put a hand on his cheek, the stubble there shocking her and reminding her of all their missed time.

“You have no idea how many Bogdans I had to try before finding the right one,” Nicolae said.

Lada could not restrain her smile. “Thank you.”

“He seems like he will make a good addition to our corps. Big enough to sit on Petru when he gets too annoying.”

“Are you quite finished?” Mehmed raised an eyebrow.

Lada’s smile vanished. What was wrong with him? Why could he not see how happy she was to be reunited with Bogdan? She caught his eyes flicking to where her hand still rested on Bogdan’s shoulder.

She lifted her chin, not letting go. “Bogdan, this is Mehmed, the sultan.”

Bogdan bowed as was appropriate, but there was something in his movements that made the bow look as though it were an afterthought. Something he was going to do anyway, and Mehmed simply happened to be standing in front of it.

Lada pulled his hand. “Come, let me show you—”

“I want you to accompany me to the treasury,” Mehmed said.

“What?”

“There are some accounts I wish to have your thoughts on.”

“But Nicolae was—”

“Nicolae can show—Bogdan, was it?—where the barracks are. Go now.”

“No! They will stay.”

Bogdan stood, impassive, his face betraying nothing. Nicolae’s eyes widened in warning. “Lada,” he mouthed.

She realized she was asking them to directly defy a command from Mehmed. Her Mehmed, yes, but their sultan, their “father.” If they obeyed her, they could be killed for treason. She knew Mehmed would do no such thing, but at the same time, she could not ask Nicolae and Bogdan to defy him for her sake.