Bright We Burn (The Conqueror's Saga #3)(48)

Lada’s hands went to her wrist daggers. But Radu’s words had already cut deep. After all this time, he was back in Wallachia. But he was here aiding her enemies. Not only Mehmed—that she had expected—but also the treacherous boyars. The ones who had killed their father. The ones who had let them be traded to the Ottomans. He had willfully become everything she stood against.

She staggered from the physical pain of hearing him conspiring against her. Then she steeled herself, listening more carefully.

Aron. Aron. Who was Aron? She knew the name.

Danesti. He was the son of the Danesti prince Lada had overthrown.

And he was in Mehmed’s camp. Even as Mehmed was offering her peace, he had a replacement ready to go.

See, Nicolae? she thought. I am always right.

Lada would still be coming back the following night. And she knew Mehmed would be waiting in anticipation. This time, his hopes would be met with her blade.





24





One Day South of Tirgoviste


RADU WISHED THE tent were larger so he could pace. Anything to keep himself awake during this endless discussion of probable futures with Aron and Andrei Danesti.

“Will you stay and help us, after we retake the throne?” Aron asked.

Radu wanted to return to his tent and sleep. He did not want to contemplate a longer tenure in this country. They had spoken of him staying to ease the transition, but he hoped it would not be necessary. Now that he was here, all he wanted was to be elsewhere.

“I do not know,” he said. “To be perfectly honest, I do not like Wallachia. I have no wish to remain beyond what is necessary to aid the sultan.”

Andrei grunted. “Like it or not, it is your heritage.”

Radu smiled tightly. “I decided long ago not to let my past dictate my future.”

Aron met Radu’s smile with one of his own. “That is a very nice luxury.”

Radu could not bear the judgment in the other man’s tone. He owed nothing to this country, nothing to its people. They had traded him for a few years’ peace. It was not the Danesti’s place to imply that Radu was being selfish.

Radu nodded and, without bidding them farewell, left the tent.

A Janissary was standing nearby, posture stiff. He was short and stocky. Radu turned to go back to his own tent, but … something …

Something—

He whipped around and watched the Janissary walk away. The gait was aggressive, the movements predatory. Radu had never realized how well he knew his sister’s walk, but it was unmistakable.

“Lada,” he said.

She did not stop walking. He was not sure she had heard him. He could still catch up to her. Grab her arm and force her to stop. Send up an alarm and have her captured, ending this entire campaign. Once again he was faced with an opportunity to betray someone he cared about and force a quick end to violent struggle.

Instead, he watched her leave.

What had she been doing here? And where—

Mehmed.

Terror cutting a path before him, Radu raced through the camp to Mehmed’s tent. The two Janissary guards moved to bar him until they saw who he was and let him pass.

Radu burst in to find Mehmed lying unmoving on the floor.

And then his eyes took in all the extra information. Unmoving and completely naked. And very much alive.

“So my sister has been here.” Radu stayed on the edge of the rug and kept his eyes on the chandelier overhead.

Mehmed laughed sleepily. “Do not look so scandalized, Radu. We negotiated a new agreement.”

“Negotiated. That is a use of the word I have never heard before.”

This time Mehmed’s laugh was bright and sharp. “Radu! I did not know you could speak so.”

Radu squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She could have killed you.”

“And yet, here I am. I figured out a solution. We give her what she wants, for now. She cannot sustain herself. That much is obvious. She has a few months, maybe a year, before she is driven out by Hungary or Transylvania or her own boyars. But we leave her on good terms so that when she loses it all, she will come back to us.”

“I saw her outside. She heard me talking with Aron and Andrei.”

“That does not matter.”

“Imagine you were in her place. We have proved ourselves repeatedly to be against her. We are sitting on her capital’s doorstep with an entire army. Of course she will agree to something. And then she will find the next opportunity to retain power, and the next, and the next. She is never coming back to us.”

“She already has. I am not dead after all.”

“For now.” Radu opened his eyes. The chandelier dazzled his sight, making bright white spots where the flames imprinted on his vision.

“Radu Bey,” one of the Janissaries outside called. “There is someone to see you. He claims he represents the Basarab family.”

“It can wait,” Mehmed told Radu. “I am happy. Lada is happy. You should be happy. Radu.” His voice was low and insistent, demanding Radu’s attention. Radu dragged his eyes away from the light. White points of flame still danced, surrounding Mehmed.

Mehmed narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, his smile tentative but devious. Radu remembered that smile well from their days in Amasya, sneaking out of the castle in the middle of the night. Stealing apples. Swimming in their secret pool.