Bright We Burn (The Conqueror's Saga #3)(40)

There was nothing to do now except wait for the Ottomans to arrive.

It was boring. Lada hated it.

Far too late, as usual, Lada noticed Stefan approaching them. She would be dead if he had been there to kill her. But he brought only information, not death.

He sat, folding his long legs beneath him. He was so dusty and dim he blended in with the rocks. “The Turks will be here within two hours. He sent ten thousand.”

That was unfortunate. Lada had hoped Mehmed would detour his whole force here. He was making certain Bucharest did not threaten him with attacks from the rear without committing too many men. But that only altered things slightly. She could move through the country much faster than Mehmed’s huge camp and supply trains could. He would stay with his main force, but Lada could—and would—be everywhere.

“Good,” she said. “We will bog them down in this pass so they can go neither forward nor backward. We do not even have to kill them all for Mehmed to have lost a sixth of his forces.”

“And after?” Stefan asked.

“I go to Tirgoviste to make certain everything there is prepared. Daciana should have overseen the evacuations into the mountains by now.” Lada frowned. “I could have used her elsewhere, though.”

Stefan frowned. It was incredibly demonstrative of him. He must have been truly upset. “She is with child, Lada. And she would not trust our children to someone else.”

“She is with child? Another one?” This was a terrible time to be having children. And selfish, too. Lada did not want her followers’ attentions divided any further than they already were. “Well, at least this one will be yours.”

Stefan straightened, his face so carefully and deliberately blank that Lada got a chill. “They are all mine.”

Something in his posture made Lada want to draw her knives defensively. Instead, she looked away in a show of confidence. She did not need to watch him for attack. He belonged to her, and he would do well to remember it. “I want you to go to Hungary. Make certain they are mobilizing their forces as promised.”

“And if they are not?”

“Kill Matthias.”

“That will not be easy. And how will it help you?”

“If Matthias cannot keep his word, I want him dead. That is how it will help me.”

Stefan stood, brushing off his hands. “I will check on Daciana on my way, make certain they have everything they need. Where are they?”

Lada looked down into the canyon, tracing an imaginary trajectory with her eyes. Men would die here very soon. It was odd, looking at the peaceful and quiet and clean place, knowing what it would hold before the day’s end. “Only I know their location. It is safer that way. If caught, no one can betray them.” Lada turned to Stefan to gauge his reaction. She had put special weight on the word betray.

His face was as unknowable and unremarkable as ever. If he understood that Lada was threatening him, he did not acknowledge or respond to it. He inclined his head, then walked silently away.

“Lada.” Bogdan’s tentative tone was utterly incongruous with how physically intimidating he was. He was a bull of a man, made kitten around her. “I wanted to speak with you, but we have not had any time alone.”

“I will not marry.” Lada did not try to soften her tone or her words, but neither did she wish to wound him. Not with the loss of Nicolae still so fresh. His death had given her, perhaps, a new perspective on the men she did have. She had lost Bogdan when they were children. He had been taken by the Ottomans. She had found him and reclaimed him, and she would not relinquish that claim.

Bogdan nodded, his eyes on the rocky ground beneath them. “My mother said as much. And if you did marry, it would not make sense to marry me. I would bring you no advantage.”

Lada tugged rather viciously on one of his stupid jug-handle ears. Those ears had listened to her all her life without question. She had taken those ears between her teeth, too. He served many purposes. “I never want you apart from me,” she said. It was the truth. It did not mean as much as he wanted it to, but it was all she could offer him.

His face bloomed with joy like a field of new spring flowers, all tender and brilliant. “I will never leave you.”

Lada nodded. Her work here was done. She owed him nothing else emotionally, which was good because even this much had exhausted her. She wanted to fight someone, to have that clarity of action and goal aligned. How considerate of Mehmed to provide her an entire army to do just that.

Bogdan twisted his foot through the pebbles beneath it with an aggravating scraping noise. “But if you were to decide to marry someone, and it did not matter whether or not they brought you any political advantage, would—”

“If you ever bring it up again, I will throw you off this canyon wall. Then I will find your body, drag it back up here, and do it a second time just to be certain that any spirit of you hanging about gets the message.”

Bogdan ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck, where a blush had formed. “Right. Well, we have an hour still. Do you want to …?” He gestured inelegantly at her trousers.

It had been a long time, with all her avoidance of him. She was not gentle. He did not complain. All was back in place between them as it had ever been.



“Keep them pinned down!” Lada pointed at a group of Janissaries attempting to skirt the edge of the line and climb up the canyon wall. It was not as good a scenario as the canyon with the Bulgars had been. There were too many boulders here, too many defensible areas for the troops to hide and return fire. But her men could keep them pinned for a long time. Days, perhaps. That was all the victory they needed.