Bright We Burn (The Conqueror's Saga #3)(61)

“You can see,” Aron said, holding out his hands in a placating gesture, “how it is concerning that, while I am prince, you seem to control all the men and all the gold.”

Perhaps Radu had been wrong to assume these two had outgrown their childishly aggressive competitiveness. They had always been polite to him while among the Ottomans. But Radu had more power than they did there. Here, in Wallachia, they were determined to prove they mattered more. It was like the forest games they had been forced to play as children all over again. Only this time, Lada would not jump out of hiding to beat them for hitting Radu.

And this time, he did not need her to.

“I can understand that,” Radu said. “The sultan has donated my men’s time and resources. I have never seen him so generous with another vaivode prince. Our fathers certainly received no such level of support from Sultan Murad. I think that provided you follow the sultan’s wishes by setting up in the capital and beginning your rule with absolute confidence, you can look forward to a beneficial lifelong relationship with the Ottoman Empire. And I can ask him to forgive the debts that Wallachia is several years behind on paying.”

Radu did not voice what would happen should Aron decide he was not satisfied with Mehmed’s generosity. But he could see in the shift from aggression to overly demonstrative smiles that he did not have to.

“Of course,” Aron said. “We want the same things the sultan does. I am sure you will communicate that.”

Radu had no desire to play politics with the Danesti brothers. He wanted them to have the country. But he had a job to do, too. Regardless of how he felt about Wallachia, about Lada, about Mehmed, he would discharge his duties here to the best of his ability. He owed that much.

Radu inclined his head. “Please let me know if there is anything we can do to ease your transition into the castle. It has been thoroughly cleaned. The whole city is clear and ready for life to resume its natural pace. While you are settling in, I will find the remaining boyars and bring them back as your support system, so that, with their help, you can begin reestablishing order. I know—as does the sultan—that you are the prince Wallachia needs.”

Aron nodded as though everything Radu proposed had been his plan all along. “Very good. I will consider our return and send word when we are ready.” He paused. “If we are going to pretend, though, I will need to put on a better show. I need new clothes more befitting my throne, as does my brother. We should also have livery for our servants with our family crest. And new horses, as well.”

Radu could practically see Aron holding out his hand for gold. And if Radu agreed to this, he could only imagine the vital needs Aron would generate in the future. But he had to make some sort of concession, and it did play into the image they were trying to project. Aron was clever.

Radu was cleverer.

“It would be an honor to arrange that. I will have it waiting in your castle for your return.” Radu bowed to cover the smile threatening to break free. He had missed playing court games a bit, after all.





33





Carpathian Mountains


THOUGH LADA WANTED to get her business with Matthias done as quickly as possible, there was one stop she had to make on the way.

“Where are we going?” Oana asked.

“Detour.” Lada directed them up a mountain pass that had been patiently carved by a tributary stream. The land was unforgiving, no clear path showing their way. But they had not made it very far before a woman emerged from behind a clump of trees, crossbow pointed right at Lada.

“My prince!” the woman said, lowering the crossbow.

Lada nodded to her. The guard went ahead of their company, alerting several other women posted on watch. Lada was pleased to see they had not relaxed their discipline in maintaining a lookout.

When they arrived at the camp, everything was clean and orderly. There were more than a thousand women here, those too old to fight or pregnant. They shared care of the children. It was one of three such camps, but Lada suspected it was the best one. Makeshift tents huddled between trees, each with a carefully cleared fire pit in front. A group of several hundred children sat in a meadow as women leaned over them, pointing to things.

Daciana smiled with unfeigned delight. “Lada! We did not expect you.”

“It was on my way.” Lada dismounted, peering past the nearest children to see what they were doing. Each child had a small stick and was scratching in the dirt with it. It was an odd game.

“We are learning how to read and write.” Daciana pointed to the nearest woman. “Maria teaches us the letters at night, and then during the day we teach the children.” Daciana’s face glowed with pride. “I know the entire alphabet now. I am working on writing a letter to Stefan.”

Lada was impressed. Though she should not have been particularly surprised. Of course the women would not be lounging about, idling away their hours. Wallachian women worked from birth until death. Even here, hiding in the mountains, they were finding ways to improve their children’s lives.

“Walk with me.” Lada turned and Daciana followed. She was beginning to show, starting to look more like when Lada had first met her, fierce and defiant, on the lands of the boyar who had impregnated her.

Lada looked up at the branches laced together. Though spring came later in the mountains, the trees were all budding. The spring green was almost gold. Little tufts of treasure on each of Lada’s trees. Had any spring ever been this lovely anywhere else? Breathing deeply and feeling herself grow stronger for it, Lada spoke. “Tell me how things are here.”