Bright We Burn (The Conqueror's Saga #3)(18)

Mehmed laughed darkly. “If being empress could not tempt Lada from Wallachia, nothing can.”

Radu inhaled sharply. Empress? When had Mehmed offered that? He had not mentioned having seen or communicated directly with Lada since she left. Mehmed always kept her secret, kept her in a portion of his heart Radu had no access to. Radu lowered his head. All their hours in here alone. All the confidence and closeness. All the work Radu had done for him while Lada was far away and actively working against Mehmed. And still she held him. She always would.

Kumal stood, walking to a map displayed on the wall. “If she gets Hungary, Moldavia, and Transylvania on her side, they may be able to shift the whole region out of our control. We would lose the Danube as well. We can fight Wallachia without any real loss, but I do not like spreading so thin between more regions.”

“Wallachia is not well liked. It will take her time to get traction within Europe. You should attack her,” Mara said. “Immediately.”

Radu opened his mouth to disagree, but then he paused. His own hesitation had cost so many lives in Constantinople, on both sides of the wall. He had not acted aggressively, and was haunted by what might have been if he had. If he had assassinated Constantine when he had the chance, perhaps he could have saved tens of thousands. He had not because he cared about the emperor, and because he cared about Cyprian. He still did not know whether he had made the right decision.

He suspected he had not. Could he stand idly by while more innocents died? It was not his fault this time, but—

Or was it? Lada had asked him to join her. Without him by her side, there was no one to temper her, no one to guide her from her first impulses. Without Radu to gently push her in new directions, she was turning into the most brutal version possible of herself.

He had chosen Mehmed over Lada, and this was the result. More death. Always death.

There had been no response to Mara’s suggestion of attack. Radu looked up. Everyone was watching him. Kumal with compassion, Mara with expectation, and Mehmed with agitated turmoil. Finally, his fists relaxed and his shoulders slumped.

“I do not want to,” Mehmed said, his voice soft. “I do not want to destroy her.”

Radu nodded, his head leaden. “I will go speak with her, then.”

Mara jumped in, still as poised and elegant as a painting, though a line had formed between her brows. “What good will speaking with her do? You cannot release Wallachia from vassalage. It sets a terrible precedent. If we can think of nothing short of total independence that she might be willing to bargain for, we have nothing to offer.”

“If she continues to push on this, she will be killed.” Kumal lifted his hands as though weighing two choices. “I do not mean that as a threat. I mean it as truth. You have said yourself that she will never back down. Her actions threaten everyone in our empire. Instability creates cracks through which death seeps in. Our responsibility is to keep our people safe, and to address threats to their well-being. Radu, I know she is your sister, but if she will not compromise, this necessarily ends in her death.”

Radu felt a pressure behind his eyes like tears he would not release. Kumal was right. Lada was courting death, and would drag untold numbers down with her on her bloody journey. He had failed her before. He would not fail her this time. But to protect her, he would have to betray her. Betrayal was quickly becoming the only skill he had to offer anyone.

Radu nodded. “She will not compromise. When she comes to meet me—as she must, because I am her brother and it aggravates her that I have belonged to someone else these last years—I will bring her back here.”

“She will never come back,” Mara said.

“Not willingly.” Radu waited as his meaning sank in.

“No,” Mehmed said. “I cannot make her a prisoner. Not like my father did. It would …” His voice broke as he trailed off.

“It would kill whatever love she has left for both of us.” Radu crossed the room and took Mehmed by the shoulders. He saw his own sadness and exhaustion reflected in his friend’s eyes. He hated this decision, even as he felt it was the right one. The only one. “Maybe, someday, we can fix it. But right now, people are dying because of her. Your people. Our people. Can we let them die because of our history with her?”

Mehmed’s eyes tracked back and forth, as though tracing potential futures. Doubtless he searched for one in which he might have Lada the way he wanted her. The future he was seeing did not revolve around Radu. “Bring her back,” Mehmed said. “Bring her home.”

Whatever they had here, whatever they might possibly move toward, it would end if Lada was back, no matter how unwilling she was. She always came first. But it did not matter. Radu had not known what to hope for, but all hope had disappeared when Mehmed did not hesitate to send him away again if it meant getting Lada back.

It was the door, swinging shut. Radu knew the momentum had started the day he ran away from Edirne with Cyprian and discovered that some hearts were more worth breaking for. And very soon, he sensed, the door would close forever. He could still acknowledge his feelings for Mehmed while knowing they were nearly done.

Radu dropped his hands from Mehmed’s shoulders, smiling because he did not know what else to do. He had held on to his love for Mehmed for so long. It had been his first, and he could not imagine anything ever taking its place. He had been wrong.