“Is that how you address your leader?” Her words snapped Petru to attention. He stood, tall and straight, bowing his head.
Nicolae took his time, stretching his long body before finally standing. “I did not realize you were leading anywhere I would need to follow.” His tone was light, but his meaning lashed Lada to the core. He had been ready to flee with her. And she had decided to stay without any thought of him. Things had not been the same between them since, but she filled her time with Mehmed and pretended not to care.
“When I have somewhere to go,” she said, holding his gaze, her chin tipped up, “you will be the first I want by my side.”
He sighed, raising a scarred eyebrow. “I hope so.”
“Now, we can—”
Mehmed burst into the room, chest heaving, a terrified young boy following him. “Tell her,” he ordered the boy.
The boy, who had a large head and a skinny neck, spoke. “Murad will not survive the week. Halil Pasha means to turn the city against you before you can come claim the throne. Leave now, bring only those you trust absolutely. Enter in secret. He is watching all the gates. I will be waiting for the boy to return with news. My arms are scarred by rosebushes. Yours faithfully, Radu.”
Mehmed stared at her. “What does the last part mean?”
“I have been deceived by someone falsely claiming to be Radu in a message before. But no one else would know about that except us. The message is from Radu, without question.” Lada paused, an unexpected ache for her brother rising in her belly. “Gather the men. We leave now. Bring extra horses to switch out.”
“What about Ilyas?” Mehmed asked.
“Do you trust him?”
“I do.”
Lada nodded. “His force is too big. We need to get you into the palace without notice. I will have him follow with his troops two days after us. For now, we ride hard and fast, and with only my men.”
“We are playing ‘Attack the City’ against Edirne?” Petru asked, eyes lighting up.
Lada could not help matching his anticipation with a smile of her own, showcasing each of her tiny, sharp teeth. “Yes. We infiltrate the capital.”
“But if we split up,” Matei said, crouching near the fire as the rabbits Stefan had caught cooked, “we are more vulnerable. Mehmed is not exactly unknown. We need all the eyes and swords we have.”
Petru, Nicolae, Stefan, and Matei, as Lada’s first Janissaries, sat in on the council. Her other men were sprawled in the woods nearby, trying to sleep in the early-afternoon light. They had made good time, mainly riding at night, avoiding the towns and cities that dotted the roads.
“We cannot enter the city as Janissaries.” Nicolae held his cap out. “We would be stopped, questioned. And no one will fail to notice a troop of Janissaries led by a woman.”
Lada growled, kicking at the ground. “Why must I be a woman?”
“Yes, why must you?” Mehmed said, amusement coloring his voice.
“I never think of you that way,” Petru said, his sincerity earning a snort of laughter from Mehmed.
“Stefan, give me your breastplate.”
Face as impassive as ever, Stefan slowly unbuckled it. Though most of them wore mail for increased ease of movement, Stefan always opted for a full metal breastplate.
Lada took it and fastened it over her chest. It compressed her breasts, but not unbearably so. She took a stick from the edge of the fire, waited for it to cool, then rubbed the charcoal lightly along her upper lip and jaw line. “If we enter under cover of night, I can be a man.”
“Still a Janissary, though,” Nicolae said.
Amal, tiny and clinging to the edges of their group as always, spoke so softly Lada could barely hear him. “No one looks at servants.”
Lada opened her mouth to argue, but she had barely looked at him this whole journey. Even his horse was old and unremarkable. No wonder Radu had chosen him instead of someone stronger or faster. Amal was the least threatening, most invisible messenger possible.
Mehmed frowned. “So I am to enter my city as a servant?”
Nicolae’s smile was as easy as ever, but Lada knew him well enough to know there was none of his usual warmth behind it. “What is a sultan but a servant to his people?”
Lada handed the breastplate back to Stefan, then turned to Amal. “How quickly can you steal me the right clothing?”
He smiled shyly, then ran, disappearing through the trees in the direction of the road.