Bright We Burn (The Conqueror's Saga #3)(60)

Kiril nodded. “I think that is a good plan, sir. And—this may be out of place—but I am glad to serve under you. Doubtless you know the rumors of why you have command. But Mehmed does not give power out on whims or as favors. You deserve your place here, and I am honored to follow you. All your men are.”

Radu laughed. “That compliment is a bit like a rose. It comes with a lot of barbs and thorns.”

Kiril raised his hands, a flush of embarrassment covering his cheeks.

Radu put a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “No, no, I understand. And thank you. Your confidence in me means more than you can know. I will always try to do right by my brothers.”

Radu excused Kiril with one last warm smile. It was a good plan. He would put on a show of power. Boyars would flock to him as the only safe option. And, if he was lucky, Lada would be so angry at being replaced as prince that she would come down to meet them where they had the advantage. Funny that after so many years of doing everything he could to avoid her ire, he was now in a position of using all that history against her.



Radu had to ride out of the city quite some distance to answer Aron’s summons. He had wrongfully assumed the Danesti brothers had taken their family manor. He had been too busy to notice that they had not, in fact, settled in Tirgoviste.

Aron and Andrei had a few hundred men of their own that had been with them since the siege at Constantinople. The men’s camp was disorderly, bordering on slovenly. Radu rode through it with a critical eye. He would not have tolerated such lack of discipline among his men. No one in the Ottoman Empire would.

Aron was waiting for him, pacing impatiently inside his tent. Andrei sat in a chair, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Here you are,” Aron said. “It took you long enough to get here.”

Radu opened his mouth to apologize, but cut the words off before they could escape. He owed them no such thing. “I was unaware you had not relocated to Tirgoviste. When will you?”

“We cannot live there!” Aron stopped pacing, horrified. “It is unhealthy. We would catch our deaths.”

Radu lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think being impaled is contagious?”

Andrei gave him a darkly wry look. “Your sister is still free.”

He had a point. “Fair enough. But it is important that we consolidate. You are vulnerable out here.”

Aron had begun moving again. “We are going to our family’s countryside estate. We need your men to go ahead and make certain it is safe.”

They had not invited Radu to sit. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I do not think that is wise.”

Aron stopped, frowning. “Why?”

“I doubt the Danesti family estate is fortified. If Lada found out you were there, you would be slaughtered.”

“We will have your men as well.”

“No.” Radu spoke slowly and carefully. He was not certain how so little had been communicated. Had it been neglect on his part, or negligence on theirs? “My men are setting up to defend the capital. It is vital that we hold it as our seat of power as a signal to all of Europe who the true prince is.”

Aron looked deeply suspicious. “The true prince?”

“You,” Radu prodded. “Of course. You are to be crowned prince. But to be prince, you need to rule from the capital.”

“I would not feel safe there.”

“It is not about feeling safe. It is about appearing to be strong. If we cannot fool others that we are confident in your rule, why would they trust us enough to stand at our side? We pretend at strength until we have actual strength. It is a lie that will become truth.”

“You seem an expert in these matters,” Andrei said drily.

Radu was. He had pretended his way into Murad’s favorites. He had pretended his way through enemy territory in Constantinople. And he had pretended his way through a lifelong friendship that he had wished was ever so much more.

And now? He would have to pretend in order to rebuild the country that never even so much as pretended to care whether he lived or died.

Aron shook his head. “I would still prefer to run things from my estate. You can divide your men.”

“I will not.”

Andrei sat up a bit straighter, and Aron stepped closer. He was smaller than Radu, though, and his attempt to loom fell short, literally. “I am here with the support of the sultan, am I not? What did he leave men for, if not to do my bidding?”

Radu smiled benignly. It was a good thing he had so much practice pretending, because if he were to be honest, he would laugh in Aron’s face. “The sultan left his men here to provide stability. He left them under my command, and I will use them as I think wisest. Which, right now, is protecting Tirgoviste and reestablishing it as your capital.”

“I am your prince,” Aron said, lifting his chin proudly.

“Actually, you are Wallachia’s prince. I am a bey of the Ottoman Empire, and am only here as a personal favor to you. I owe you no allegiance.”

Aron and Andrei shared a look that was alarm on Aron’s part and menace on Andrei’s. “We want money,” Andrei said. “We know the sultan left you with funds. As prince, my brother should be able to dictate where those funds go.”

“The money is for fighting my sister.”

“And by becoming prince, is my brother not fighting her? Therefore, he should be able to decide how best to put it to use.”