That evening she sat next to Bogdan. They were alone in the palace barrack’s mess hall. She had not spoken with or even seen him since the assassination attempt. This was the first time she had felt up to joining her men for a meal, but most of them were on duty. Mehmed trusted them more than ever, and they were all in heavy rotation.
“How are you?” Bogdan asked.
Lada gave him a flat look, wishing she were strong enough to physically punish him for asking such a stupid question. “I was stabbed and beaten by a trusted mentor a week ago.”
He matched her expression with a similar one. “I was there.”
She wondered if he had been scared, if he had been angry that she might die so soon after they were reunited. But his face betrayed nothing.
“I meant how is it being in mourning.”
Bogdan was a fool if he thought she was mourning the death of Mehmed’s half brother. She was not happy that the boy had been killed, but she could not pretend to oppose Huma’s rationale. It would be hypocrisy to dress in sackcloth and ashes. Disrespectful, even.
“Is it common knowledge, then?” she asked. Radu had sent her a note that Mehmed was going to make the fratricide decree, but she had thought it would be tomorrow. She had also been hurt that Mehmed had not asked for her advice on what to say.
She wondered how long it would take him to forgive her for everything that had transpired. The fear that perhaps he would not be able to nagged at her. Where would she be then?
Bogdan shrugged. “Petru told me.”
Lada frowned. “Petru was not on duty today. How did he hear about Ahmet?”
“Who is Ahmet?”
“Mehmed’s half brother.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your father.” Bogdan stopped, his jaw tightening. “They did not tell you.”
Lada knew she was looking at Bogdan’s face, but she could not see it. She could not see anything. “My father is dead?”
“I am sorry. Petru thought you knew. Hunyadi and the boyars killed your father. Mircea, too.”
Lada nodded, her head bobbing up and down of its own volition. A roar filled her ears. A roar like the wind rushing along the banks of the Arges River, tearing at a tree growing sideways out of the rock. “When?”
“Petru overheard Mehmed and Radu a week ago. Right before the revolt.”
“A week.” Her hand darted to the pouch around her neck—but it was gone.
She had not realized it, had not felt for it since she fought Ilyas.
It was gone.
ALL RADU WANTED TO do was sleep, but the knocking would not cease. He stumbled to the door and yanked it open, ready to yell at whoever was there. The ghost of his sister stood in the doorway. Her eyes were large and vacant, her face as smooth as a fading memory.
“Our father is dead,” Lada said.
Radu leaned heavily against the doorframe. Lada drifted in past him. He shut the door, closing them in.
“Why did you keep this from me?”
Radu was glad it was dark so he could not see her face. “I did not know how to tell you.” He reached for her hand. It felt cold and tiny in his own. “I am sorry. I know you loved him.”
“I did not love him. I worshipped him. And then he betrayed us by being human—so worthlessly, weakly human. He left us here with nothing and made it impossible for us to return home.”
“He terrified me.”
Lada laughed sharply. “Little brother, everyone terrified you.”
“That is true.”
“Mircea is dead, too.”
“Yes.” Radu thought of the raw grief Mehmed had been consumed by after the murder of his infant half brother. Radu felt nothing like that when he thought of Mircea’s death. Perhaps that meant something was wrong with him. He wondered if Lada mourned Mircea. He did not ask.
Lada spoke. “Do you remember that summer? When Father took us out of the city?”
“Yes. I was bitten by so many bugs I could scarcely move.”
“I thought he would see me. I thought if we left Tirgoviste, if we left stupid Mircea, if we left behind the boyars and their ceaseless bickering, he would see what I was becoming to please him. For one day, I thought he did. It was the happiest day of my life. And then he left, as he always did.”
“He loved you.”
“You sound so certain. How do you know?”
“Because he tried to save you, that day the sultan claimed us.”
“He failed.”
“But he tried. That was more than he did for me.”
After a brief silence, Lada let out a harsh bray of laughter. “I keep thinking how angry Mircea must be to be dead.”
“I had the same thought!”