Now I Rise (The Conqueror's Saga #2)(36)

The horse, lathered and shivering, was drawn to an abrupt stop in front of them. “He has killed them!” the rider shouted.

“Valentin?” Cyprian sheathed his sword. It was the thatch-haired boy who had helped them in the stables.

Valentin tried to dismount, but fell roughly to the ground instead. “He killed them!”

Cyprian jumped from his horse, grabbing Valentin. “What do you mean? Why are you here?”

“He killed them! At the party. The sultan killed them. He killed them all.”

Cyprian looked up at Radu and Nazira in horror. “Did you know?”

Radu shook his head, numb with shock. He had not known. This, then, was Mehmed’s declaration of war. Radu knew that lives would be lost—of course they would, that was the price of a siege—but this felt so personal. So … excessive. It felt more like murder than war. He had no doubt Mehmed had his reasons, and if Mehmed could explain them, Radu would understand.

Unbidden, the image of the ambassadors lying on the gleaming tile floor, blood pooling around them, came to Radu’s mind. Sour acid rose in his throat, threatening to come out. Surely there had been a reason. “I did not know,” he whispered.

Cyprian cradled the boy, still looking up at Radu and Nazira. “Your timing saved my life. I owe you everything, and will call you friends to my dying day.”

Nazira and Radu looked at each other as the full weight of what they were in the middle of finally descended on their shoulders.



Three days later, Radu’s assumption that Nazira would require a lot of help on the road was heartily disproved. She had packed not only her essentials but also provisions. Radu had not even thought of it, a fact that was not lost on Nazira. She batted her eyes slyly at him as she started a fire effortlessly and pulled out food from a saddlebag. “We wives are very useful things to have around,” she said.

Radu huddled close to the fire, grateful for the heat and for Nazira’s skills. “And all this time I thought you were merely decorative.”

Cyprian gave a small laugh, while Radu and Nazira traded a secret smile over how true her decorative role actually was. It was good to hear Cyprian laugh. He had understandably been in a pall since receiving news of the murders.

Assassinations, Radu corrected himself. Political, not personal. That made them assassinations, not murders. Which he found easier to stomach, though neither was pleasant.

“How much farther to the city?” Radu asked.

“We should be there tomorrow.” They had taken a wandering route, fueled by the servant Valentin’s terror and Cyprian’s fear of pursuit. Radu and Nazira could not very well assure their traveling companions that Mehmed wanted them all to arrive safely, so they toiled along little-used roads and through backcountry.

Nazira dished out soup and then settled in next to Radu.

“You even remembered spices?” Radu said. The soup was deliciously hot on his tongue.

“You married extremely well, Radu.” She leaned against his free arm. Radu looked up to see Cyprian watching them with a forlorn, wistful expression.

Nazira noticed it, too. “Are you married, Cyprian?”

He shook his head as though coming out of a daze and looked down at his bowl. “No.”

“I wondered if you were going home to a wife. Did you grow up in Constantinople?”

He nodded, soaking the now-stale flatbread in the soup to soften it.

Nazira continued asking questions, pumping Cyprian for information. Radu was both proud of her and sad that it was necessary. “Do you have family there still?”

“Yes. Sort of.” Cyprian’s smile twisted and did not touch his eyes. “My father is Demetrios.”

“The despot?” Radu asked, surprised. Constantine’s two brothers, Demetrios and Thomas, ruled other areas in the Peloponnese. They were often at odds with each other, enemies as frequently as they were allies. Radu could not understand why one of them would allow his son to be an ambassador. It was a job of dubious prestige, thankless and, frankly, dangerous. Ambassadors were as likely to be killed by foreign courts as their own if they brought back undesirable reports.

Cyprian nodded. “I am, unfortunately, a bastard. My mother was his mistress. So I am not as valuable as his legitimate sons. Constantine took me in and gave me a position in his court as a favor to my mother.”

“Was she from Cyprus?” Nazira asked.

Cyprian’s expression softened. “She named me after her island. She always said I was her home wherever she was.”

Nazira sighed prettily. “I like her very much already. Have you ever been to Cyprus? I hear it is beautiful.”

“No. My mother died four years ago. I have meant to go and see her birthplace, but Constantine’s need has been greater than my whims.”

“Is he so demanding, this uncle emperor of yours?” Nazira’s tone was light and teasing. Radu leaned back, wondering how else Nazira would prove he had drastically underestimated her.

Cyprian laughed. “No. That is what keeps me at his side. I would fear for my soul if I had it in me to repay all his kindness by abandoning him in his time of greatest need.” His expression turned dark once again. “I worry for how he will mourn if news of the ambassadors’ deaths reaches him before we do. He will think me murdered, and will blame himself. It was not his fault. I requested to go.”