Now I Rise (And I Darken Series, #2)(44)

Radu looked at the pretend heir. Orhan stared down at his hands, which were soft and pale. Not warrior’s hands, like Constantine’s or the Italian’s. Orhan nodded.

Constantine reached out and squeezed the other man’s shoulder. “We release any threat against Mehmed’s legitimacy. We graciously decline payment for the land the Rumeli Hisari is built on. We increase our payments to him.”

Radu wondered if he should encourage that. Perhaps Mehmed would want it. But he would still attack. And everything here would be Mehmed’s in the end, so it did not matter. Radu would tell the truth. “His mind is set on the city with a singular focus. He has spoken and dreamed of little else since he was twelve. I do not think anything will deter him now. You can offer, but short of surrender, you should prepare for siege.” Radu dared to hope that after hearing his tales of men and cannons, they would surrender. He could deliver the city, unharmed, directly to Mehmed!

Constantine turned to the Italian, eyebrows raised expectantly. “Giustiniani?”

Giustiniani’s Greek was heavily accented, but he spoke with a command and even a joviality that demanded confidence. “We are nearly settled, your grace. We stretched your purse as far as we could. All the food and water is stored. We have enough to last for a year, with minimal supplementation.” He smiled bitterly. “There are advantages to so many leaving, after all.”

Radu wilted inside. No easy surrender, then.

Giustiniani continued. “We may be outmatched in artillery, boats, and men—overwhelmingly outmatched in men—but rest assured, Constantinople is still the best-defended city in the world. It will not fall easily. Tell me, Radu: do you think we can outlast Mehmed?”

Radu weighed the truth. Surrender was not on their minds yet. And they were right to make an effort. Even speaking the words felt disloyal, but acknowledging reality would not change it. “If you can draw out the siege long enough, you have a chance. The Ottomans have come against Constantinople before, and they have always failed. They are superstitious; they will see portents of doom in any delay or failed initiative. Mehmed will be fighting time and morale. He is better prepared than anyone who has ever come before, but he is betting his throne and his legacy on this single assault. If you can outlast him, he will never be able to amass the support to make another attempt.”

“So if we do this, the city is safe from him.”

Radu nodded. “I do not doubt that if Mehmed fails at the wall, he will not live long afterward. There are too many powerful men who do not like him.” The thought terrified Radu. Halil Vizier was still with Mehmed, working against him at every possible turn. How could Radu protect Mehmed from here?

Constantine stared blankly at the floor, his expression far away. “All we have to do is outlast him, then.”

It was as simple and as impossible as that.





20





Late March




“WHERE ARE YOU going?” Bogdan asked.

Lada whipped around, knives in her hands. Taking a deep breath, she put them away. It was near midnight. She had thought her furtive exit from camp would go unmarked. She should have known Bogdan would mark it, as he did all her movements. He had a way of tracking her, watching her without watching. His childhood loyalty had grown as broad and strong as he had. Usually Lada found comfort in that. But lately it felt far more serious, like he was not only looking for her but also looking for something from her.

She had been deliberately vague about their purpose on the shared border of Hungary, Transylvania, and Wallachia. None of her men had questioned her disobeying Hunyadi’s directive and leaving the Transylvanian passes they were supposed to guard.

Lada did not know how her men would feel about taking up with the Ottomans yet again. Some harbored less ill will toward their onetime captors and benefactors; oth ers hated them. Doubtless some would prefer to fight for Constantinople than at the sides of Ottomans. But she was their leader. They joined her to take back Wallachia, and she did not need permission to make decisions. If they did not like it, they were welcome to make their own way.

Her way was forward, to the throne, however she got there.

“You are supposed to be patrolling on the other end of camp,” she snapped.

Though she could not see his face, she could practically feel Bogdan’s blunt smile. “You did not answer my question.”

“Because I do not have to. I am leaving. I will be back. That is everything you need to know.”

“Something is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong!” All day she had been on edge, knowing how close Mehmed was. She was not certain of the precise location of his camp, but she knew it was within a few miles of where she stood now. Mehmed was within a few miles, not separated by rivers and countries and the year that had come between them. She thought she had hidden her agitation well, but apparently not.

“I will go with you.”

“No!” Not Bogdan. Anyone but Bogdan. Lada could not face him if he found out what she was doing. Admitting it felt like asking permission, and she refused to do that. Besides, she remembered Bogdan’s thinly veiled distaste for Mehmed. She did not want to bring that along with her. “I must go alone.”

“Why?”

“Get back to your patrol.”

Bogdan stood, unmoving, for five eternally long breaths. Then he walked off into the night.