And I Darken (The Conquerors Saga #1)(24)

Lada had been expecting punishment, so the invitation to join women for an afternoon meal came as a shock. She was escorted by a narrow-shouldered bald man to a section of the palace she had never visited.

Two women stood when she entered the elegant room. One was young, perhaps only a few years Lada’s senior. She had her hair wrapped in a cheerful blue scarf, with a veil over the lower half of her face. Her eyes were big and projected a brilliant smile.

Lada flinched as the woman rushed forward, but she only took her hands and squeezed them.

She spoke Turkish. “You must be Ladislav. You poor dear. Come, sit. I am Halima. This is Mara.”

Lada allowed herself to be pulled toward the cushions around a table, taking in the other woman, who sat straight-backed and corseted, her structured dress in contrast to Halima’s flowing layers of silk. This woman’s hair was dark brown, elaborately curled and formally twisted in the style of the Serbian courts.

“Why am I here?” Lada asked, tone as blunt as she could manage in her confusion.

“Because no one knew what else to do with you.” Mara’s tone was cold, her eyes narrowed. “When they discovered why you beat that poor child, the men refused to acknowledge the topic further. We were asked to speak with you about your feminine issues.”

“Did you not understand what was happening?” Halima leaned forward, eyes crinkling in sympathy. “You must have been so frightened! I knew to expect my monthly courses, and still I nearly fainted at the blood! But here you are, with only your brother. You must meet with us, let us teach you and help you.” She clapped her hands together in delight. “It will be fun!”

Lada remained where she was, standing stiffly by the table. “I want nothing you can offer.”

“Oh, but you must have questions! Do not be afraid. You cannot embarrass us. We are wives, after all.”

“That is exactly the fate I am trying to avoid,” Lada muttered.

“Then you are a fool,” Mara answered.

“Oh, be kind, Mara! She does not understand. It is a wonderful thing, being a wife! Murad is so attentive, and we are taken care of better than we could ever hope for.” There was no hint of furtiveness or secrecy in Halima’s tone. Her statement was as honest as her big, stupid eyes.

“You are married to Murad?” Lada asked, the sultan’s name foul on her tongue.

“We both are.” Halima smiled brightly. Lada looked in horror toward Mara.

Mara’s smile was the bitter winter to Halima’s brilliant spring. “Yes. We are both his wives, among other wives and many concubines.”

Lada recoiled. “That is an abomination.”

“If I recall correctly,” Mara said, “your father has another son, from a mistress.”

Lada did not answer, but her face was confirmation. They never spoke of the other Vlad, but Lada knew he existed.

Halima gestured eagerly, as though she could pluck the thoughts from Lada’s mind and smooth them out into more pleasant shapes. “That is how it is done here. Men are allowed to have more than one wife, if they can provide for them. And the sultan has a tradition of keeping a harem. We are all loved and cared for. It is such a privilege to be a wife!”

Mara took a sip of tea from a delicate teacup, unlike any Lada had seen. When she spoke, she spoke in Hungarian. “Halima is an idiot.”

Halima tilted her head to the side. “What?”

Mara continued. “She is a child. She fancies herself a princess in a tale. Murad choosing her as a wife from among the harem was the biggest thing a girl like Halima could ever accomplish. I do not know whether to strangle her or to do everything in my power to keep her in her glittering fantasy.”

Lada answered in Hungarian, intrigued by Mara’s honesty. “What about you?”

“I am here for the same reason you are. My marriage to Murad was the seal of a truce with my father and Serbia. My presence here keeps Serbia free.”

Lada scoffed. “But Serbia is not free.”

Mara raised a single eyebrow. “What do you think freedom is?”

“The right to rule yourself! Not to be beholden to a foreign nation for safety.”

“Every country is beholden to other nations for safety. That is what treaties and borders are.”

“But this is different!”

“How so?”

“You! You should not be forced into a marriage! It is not fair.”

Halima coughed deliberately, her lips turned down. “Perhaps we could speak in a language everyone understands? So no one’s feelings are hurt by being left out?”

Mara continued without acknowledging her fellow wife. “Hmm. And what do you think would have happened to me if I had stayed in Serbia? I would have been married to another man not of my choosing. I despise my husband and this entire empire, but at least here I have accomplished something. Halima’s marriage to Murad keeps her safe and taken care of. My marriage to Murad keeps all of Serbia safe and taken care of. It is not fair, no. But it is more important than fairness. Do you love Wallachia?”

Lada scowled at the trap of the question. She knew where it would lead, but she had to answer truthfully. “Yes.”

“Just as I love Serbia. I serve my country and my family by being exiled. We must all do what we can, Ladislav. This was my contribution.”