He could hear Nazira laughing as he hurried out of the room and through the hall. At the front door he found a messenger wearing Mehmed’s seal.
“The sultan, his magnificence Mehmed the Second, Caesar of Rome and the Hand of God on Earth, requests your presence immediately in Constantinople.” He gestured to direct Radu’s attention to a team of horses waiting in the street.
Lada, Radu thought. It had worked, then. He wondered what Mehmed thought Radu could accomplish. She would never accept captivity, just as she had not before. And Radu could do nothing to help that. Still, he would go. He would do what Mehmed asked, because he did not know how to do anything else.
The idea of seeing Lada terrified him. He was not the same person she had left behind. He could not imagine her, though, as anyone but who she had always been. And he did not want to see how she would judge him and find him lacking.
But having Nazira and Fatima with him would give him the strength to remember things could—and should—be different. He would ask Mehmed for a new position immediately. These were no longer his problems to handle. It was not a betrayal of his friend or his sister to be honest about that. Lada and Mehmed had chosen power. Neither had chosen him.
Radu could walk away.
The messenger cleared his throat. Radu had been standing there, silent, lost in his own history.
“Give me a few minutes to gather my things.” Radu closed the door gently. He turned to find Nazira and Fatima standing in the hallway. His smile felt like the first layer of ice on a river in winter. Cold and fragile. “I have been summoned to Constantinople. Your resolve is tested sooner than we thought.”
Fatima surprised him by speaking first. “We have already packed for just such a scenario.” She disappeared upstairs.
Nazira fixed a wry smile on Radu. “You cannot get away from this conversation by an urgent summons to the city. And think of all that time on the road we will have to talk about adding to our family!”
It turned out there was, in fact, something even more terrifying than Lada.
Radu had been saved on the long ride to Constantinople by the addition to their party of a minor bey, summoned on a matter of tax revenue. Though Radu had never met him before, he quickly became the man’s best friend by encouraging him to tell them every detail of his entire life.
Nazira watched and waited, an amused twinkle in her eyes. Radu had not gotten out of the conversation about … their family. He was only delaying the inevitable. But he would take every delay he could get.
As they passed through the walls and into Constantinople, Fatima gazed around in wonder. They had traveled all night—an urgency that had been demanded by Mehmed, apparently—and so entered Constantinople as a warm, golden dawn bathed it in softest light. Radu tried to see it as Fatima would: without ghosts, without blood, without the weight of memories heavier than the stones of the walls. Nazira reached across the space between them and squeezed his hand. “He has made it beautiful.”
But she kept her eyes firmly on her own hands.
Though morning had barely broken, the sounds of hammers and construction already rang like music through the air as they reached the palace. A servant met them, directing the tax-busied bey elsewhere and bidding Radu’s company to follow.
“We will help your sister,” Nazira murmured at Radu’s side. “However we can. We will see you through this.”
Radu tried to smile his gratitude, but his jaw was clenched too tightly. Lada had never wanted his help growing up, and when she had finally asked for it, he had refused. And now he had trapped her. A pit of dread opened in his stomach as the servant gestured to a door and bowed. Radu was not familiar with this room, but the palace had numerous receiving areas.
Taking a deep breath, Radu strode forward, followed by Nazira and Fatima.
Mehmed stood from the sofa he had been sitting on. Radu swept his eyes over the room. Mehmed was alone. Was Lada so feral with rage, then, that she was already in a cell?
Mehmed looked behind Radu at Nazira and Fatima, who both bowed prettily. Radu remembered to do the same. When he straightened, Mehmed was still staring at Nazira. His imperious features would have revealed nothing to one who did not know him. But Radu knew him.
Mehmed did not want to utter whatever he had to say next.
“What is it?” Radu asked, the pit of dread growing ever deeper. “Where is Lada?”
Mehmed shook his head. “She is not here.”
Radu’s chest tightened. He closed his eyes, reassuring himself. She was not dead. She could not be dead. That was not what Mehmed meant! He meant she was in another building. Radu would get her nicer accommodations than the dank prison cells he had seen when interrogating a prisoner on behalf of Constantine. It was the absolute least he could do. “Where are you keeping her?”
“I mean, she is not here at all.”
Radu frowned. “Is Kumal not back yet? What happened?”
Mehmed shook his head again, and the shift in his eyes from horror to sadness made Radu’s heart race. He wanted to run away from whatever was coming next.
Radu glanced at Nazira, a pleasant and respectful look on her face as she waited for news of her beloved brother. Radu’s stomach contracted, a shudder running through his whole body. “What did she do?” he whispered, planting his eyes on the floral patterns of the thick carpet. He could not bear to look at anyone.
“I am so sorry,” Mehmed said. “Apparently she went into the fortress with the intent of kidnapping you. But she found Kumal.” He paused, as though searching for the next words. “She was not merciful.”
Radu choked, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
She was not merciful.
When had she ever been? Radu dropped to his knees, hanging his head. “This is my fault. I should have been there. I should have gone to her, and sent Kumal to … If I had, then—”
A light, trembling hand settled on his shoulder. Nazira spoke in a whisper. “What does he mean? Tell me what he means, Radu.”
Radu shook his head. “I should have known. She is my sister. I of all people know that mercy is not in her nature. It should have been me.” Being a Dracul had cost him so much. He had thought he was done paying for the blood that ran through his veins. But he would never be done. The price of being in his family was everything he held dear, taken from him over and over again. They were the dragons. The devils. There was no mercy in them or for them.
Nazira knelt next to him. “Tell me. Tell me exactly what he means.”
Radu’s punishment was having to say the words. Having to do this to Nazira. “She killed him.”
An unearthly wail started, so low at first that Radu did not know what it was until it built to a scream. Nazira, who had always been so strong, was broken. Fatima dropped down next to her, taking her in her arms. Nazira screamed and sobbed, clawing at Fatima’s arms as though she could burrow in there and hide herself from sorrow.
Radu did not know what to do. Could not do anything. “I am— Nazira, I am so sorry, I—”
“Please,” Fatima said. She shook her head in warning. “Please stop talking.” She held out one arm and Radu crawled to the two women.
Fatima held them both up.
Radu pictured Kumal as he had last seen him. Smiling. Waving. An unbidden image of his brother, his teacher, his friend sliced like a blade through his memory. Lada killing Kumal. How had she done it? With a knife? A sword? Had Kumal fought back? Radu did not want to imagine it, did not want to picture it. Could not stop.
He did not realize the guttural sobs were coming from himself until Fatima stroked his back, making a soft shh sound. Nazira grabbed his arm, her fingers digging in painfully as she dragged him closer and buried her face in his shoulder. She shook, silent now, her breath coming in shuddering gasps. They were all three a tangle, a mess of devastation.