Now I Rise (The Conqueror's Saga #2)(109)

The Janissary hesitated. “We are to leave it unspoiled. Mehmed does not want anything burned.”

“All the wealthiest people in the city are hiding behind those doors. All the gold, the silver, the riches we were promised are behind those doors. We are not here to burn.” He raised his voice to a shout. “We are here to grow rich on the fat of these unholy infidels!”

The mob behind him roared, pushing forward. The Janissaries, smart enough to know when they were going to lose, ran. Radu himself hacked through the bar, then pushed the doors open. The looters were greeted with screams and shrieks of despair. The mob fanned out, running to be the first to grab someone or something worthwhile. Radu scanned the faces, looking for the two he had come for. Amal stayed on his heels.

In the corner near the stairs leading up to the gallery, Radu saw the two boys. They stood in front of their nurse with straight backs. Radu ran, shoving several others out of the way to get there first.

“Please.” The nurse pushed the two boys forward. “Spare me. These are the heirs! Constantine’s heirs. I give them to you.” The boys lifted their chins bravely.

A man nudged Radu. “They yours?” he asked, breathing heavily over Radu’s shoulder.

“The boys are. You can do whatever you want with that woman.” He reached out a hand to either boy, crouching down so he was eye level with them. Recognition dawned on their faces. Manuel burst into tears. John threw himself forward, looping his arms tightly around Radu’s neck.

“Come on,” Radu whispered. “We do not have much time. I know you are both very, very brave, but pretend you are scared and do not wish to go with me.”

John released him and took Manuel’s hand. Amal tentatively reached out and took John’s other hand. Radu walked behind them, pushing them toward the stairs. “Why are we going up?” John whispered as they climbed past the gallery.

“There is no way out of the city now,” Radu said. “I am going to hide you.”

Fortunately no one had made it past the main floor. With so many people in the Hagia Sophia, the soldiers were busy grabbing as many of them as they could. Radu ushered the boys down the hall, then up the familiar ladders until they passed through a trapdoor and onto the roof.

Once they were on the roof, Radu jammed his sword into the trapdoor’s hinges. It would not hold against any serious attempt to break through, but he doubted that men looking for the spoils of war would think to check the roof of a cathedral.

He led the boys away from the edge, where they could be seen from the street—and where they could see what was happening. John and Manuel, at least, had been spared those memories so far. Radu would keep it that way. They found a sheltered area and sat together. One heir huddled against each of Radu’s sides, with Amal curled by his legs.

“Thank you for saving us,” John said, trembling.

Radu looked up to heaven and closed his eyes, because he could not accept those thanks. He had not saved them. He had no way to get them out, no way to leave the city unnoticed. All he had done was delay the inevitable.

But unlike him, they were innocent. And so he would keep them safe for as long as he was breathing.

And he prayed that, somewhere out there, Cyprian would do the same for Nazira.





48





Late May




IN THE WEEKS after her ascension, Lada spent as much time as possible outside. They were waiting for the end of May, when all the Danesti boyars had been invited to a feast. Anticipating it was a burden. Toma had taken over most of the planning, for which she was both grateful and annoyed. She knew she needed the boyars’ permanent support if she was to keep her throne, but she did not know how to get it. If only she had Radu.

Radu.

She had received word that the siege against Constantinople was in progress. Where was he? Was he safe? Of all the things she held against Mehmed, jeopardizing Radu’s safety was the greatest. If Radu was hurt, she would never forgive Mehmed. Radu was not an acceptable sacrifice, not for any city.

Though Lada herself had sacrificed her relationship with him to come here. Wallachia was different, though. Wallachia was hers. It was bigger and more important than any city. Besides, she had not put Radu directly in harm’s way. Other than leaving him with a man he loved who would never love him back. Who would willingly send Radu into danger, never seeing that Radu would give up anything and everything for what Mehmed could never return.

If Radu had been harmed, she would avenge him. She would kill Mehmed. Thinking about that made her feel slightly better. She spent nearly as much time dreaming of killing Mehmed as she did of doing … other things to him.

But she needed Radu. She still did not know what to do with the boyars. There were some already in Tirgoviste. The ones who had supported her had come to pay their respects, but she suspected all the payments were forgeries, imitations of actual respect.

She often rode in the poorer parts of the city. Always she had men with her—the ones she knew, the ones she trusted. Bogdan and Nicolae. Petru. Stefan, if he could be found, and others of her old Janissaries when needed. She told herself it was because the Wallachian men who had joined her were not as well trained, but the truth was she still felt more at home among Janissaries than Wallachians. That preference filled her with gnawing guilt, but she reassured herself that it was because all her Janissaries had been Wallachian first. Just like her.