Now I Rise (The Conqueror's Saga #2)(81)

Lada read the letter with a scowl. Nicolae sat next to her, trying to read over her shoulder. “What does he say?”

“He disagrees with my negotiating tactics.” Her temper bubbled hotter than the tea. “And he says he is joining us to make certain I do not negotiate like that with any more boyars.”

She threw the letter to the ground, standing and pacing. “Who is he to tell me what to do? You saw Silviu! You saw his land, what he was doing. Was I not right?”

Nicolae read over the letter with a resigned expression. “I am not saying you were not right. But … perhaps more thought and care should be taken with future boyars.”

“Why?” Daciana said.

“We need them.”

Lada snorted. “We need them? No one needs them. They are maggots, feeding on my land and doing nothing for it!”

Nicolae wore a long-suffering expression. “They are necessary for organization. They collect taxes. They run the farmlands. They muster troops from the men living in their provinces.”

Lada leaned forward. “Tell me, Nicolae. Does it look like they are doing a good job?”

Nicolae smiled. “The roads are impassable with thieves. The fields are fallow or untended. The boyars are fat and wealthy while the people starve. The prince has no military support unless they decide to give it—which they never do. But the fact remains, that is how the country runs. Figure out how to use them better. Control them better. But you cannot get to the throne without them.”

Lada sat in disgust. “Why not?”

“You are already using Toma Basarab. Trust that he knows what he is doing.”

“I do not trust him at all.”

Nicolae rubbed his scar. “Did you think he could just hand you the throne? You need allies. You need the boyars. You cannot skip past them, and to get them, you need him.” Nicolae put an arm around Lada, drawing her close. “Make a deal with the devil until you are both over the bridge.”

“Am I the devil, or are they?”

Nicolae laughed again, but he did not answer.

Bogdan sat on Lada’s other side. His eyes lingered on Nicolae’s arm around her shoulder. He offered her the inside of his bread. It was the softest part, her favorite. He took the crusts without expecting thanks. He simply did it, as he did everything for her. As he always had.

It sparked an idea.

“What if I take land—if I give the land to the people who deserve it, like Daciana’s mother? I get their loyalty. The boyars claim things based on centuries of blood. The land is theirs by birthright. So I take it from those who oppose us. I give it to people whose vision for Wallachia matches my own. They have nothing to claim other than my favor, and they owe all allegiance to me.” She met Bogdan’s approving stare and offered him a smile. He ducked his head, a pleased flush spreading across his cheeks.

“You cannot kill all the boyars.” Nicolae helped himself to some tea.

“Oh?”

Nicolae looked up sharply, narrowing his eyes. “They did not ask for their birthright. They have done nothing to you, and you have no guarantee that they ever will. I do not think you were wrong to kill that last pig, but slaughtering every noble in the country will have repercussions even you cannot handle.” When Lada did not respond, he threw his hands up in exasperation, spilling his tea. “They are related to nobility in other countries. You will draw too much attention and too much ire. Someone will retaliate. Besides, they have families. They have influence. And they are people.”

Lada gazed into the flames, letting them fill her vision. “Of course. I will listen to Toma Basarab and accept allegiance from those who offer it. But no one keeps anything without meriting it. That goes for every Wallachian.” She blinked, spots of light dancing in front of her eyes. “Including you, Daciana. So I ask again: why are you here?”

“You have no lady’s maid.”

Nicolae snorted. “You are mistaken. Our Lada is no lady. She is a dragon.”

Bogdan growled low and angry in his throat. Lada laughed, patting Bogdan’s knee. Then she tossed a handful of dirt and dry evergreen needles at Nicolae. “No one asked for your opinion.”

“My opinions are gifts I distribute freely, asking neither permission nor payment.”

“Take your gifts elsewhere,” Bogdan grumbled.

Lada waved her hand. “Nicolae is right. I need no lady’s maid, because I am not a lady. I am a soldier.”

Daciana smiled, smug and self-satisfied. “Precisely. A soldier does not have time to wash her monthly courses from her clothes.”

Lada’s cheeks burned, and she looked at the ground rather than at Nicolae and Bogdan. Daciana’s stomach loomed in the edge of her vision. And then she had a thought.

A terrible thought.

Lada stood, nearly falling into the fire. She grabbed Daciana’s hand. “Come with me.” The girl yelped, struggling to her feet. Lada dragged her away from the camp and into the trees.

“Tell me about being with child. How did it happen? How long did it take until you knew there was a—” Lada swept her hand toward Daciana’s stomach, unable to tear her eyes away from it now. “How long until you knew that thing was in there?”

Daciana’s dark eyes betrayed no emotion. “When was your last bleeding?”

Lada turned her back, stalking several feet away. “I am not asking about that, I only want to know—”