“But she was a princess, and he was no one. Still, he traveled to the other side of the mountain to ask for her hand in marriage. Her father, aghast, but seeing his daughter’s preference, presented Ferhat with an impossible task: if Ferhat brought the stream of pure water to the king’s side of the mountain, he could marry Shirin. Ferhat tried many things. He carved irrigation channels, but the water turned sluggish and muddy as soon as it left its source. He carried the water in giant vessels, but it spilled or dried up before he could complete the journey. Finally, desperate to be nearer Shirin, he began to dig. He cut deeper and deeper into the mountain, guiding the stream along with him, traveling through the darkness, knowing her light shone on the other side.
“But this did not sit well with the king. He heard of Ferhat’s progress and knew that if Ferhat succeeded, he would have to live with the shame of giving up his prized daughter. Since he could not go back on his word, the king sent a servant to spread the tale that Shirin had died. Ferhat, stumbling from the mountain after countless hours in the dark, was met with the news that the light he dug toward had been extinguished forever.
“Overcome with despair, he fled back into his tunnel and beat his head against the end of it until he died. Shirin, heartbroken and betrayed by her father, disappeared. They say she wandered into the mountain in search of Ferhat and was never seen again. Together, they form the heart of the mountain, still beating, pouring forth a spring as pure as their love forever.”
“That is beautiful,” Radu said, swishing his hands reverently through the water, as though it carried the legacy of the lovers, buoying them up.
“That is absurd,” Lada said. “They both died for nothing.”
Mehmed frowned. “They died for love!”
“They wasted their lives.”
“It was not a waste.” Radu smiled, tentative and shy. “I would tunnel through the mountain for both of you.”
Lada laughed. “Then you are a fool, too, because you cannot marry either of us.”
Her words stung after his sincere offering, and Radu was reminded why he no longer trusted her. “I did not mean that!”
Mehmed put a hand on his shoulder, his smile healing the hurt of Lada’s mocking. “I know what you meant. This pool is as old and as pure as that story, I think.”
“It will be ours, then.” Radu beamed.
“Our secret,” Mehmed agreed.
Radu ducked under the water, his whole body smiling and infused with the warmth of a prayer of gratitude for the grace of a beautiful, safe secret and someone he loved to share it with.
LADA AWOKE WITH A hand over her mouth.
She punched twice in rapid succession, aiming for the kidneys. Her assailant rolled away. “Lada! Stop!”
She sat up in bed, squinting in the dark. “Mehmed?”
He groaned in pained assent.
“What are you doing in my room?”
“We are sneaking out.”
She detected another figure in the darkness. Radu. Exasperated, Lada flopped back, rolling onto her stomach. But it was no use. The spike of alarm that had awoken her robbed the remains of sleep, and she knew it would be hours chasing them before she found her way back. Besides, she was…curious.
“Fine.” She threw aside the blankets and grabbed a tunic to yank over her nightclothes. She pulled a cloak on over everything, then gestured impatiently for Mehmed and Radu to lead on.
Instead of leaving through the door, though, they climbed on top of her bed and squeezed out the narrow window. The fortress at Amasya was old, squatting low and heavy on the ground. A wall ran the length of it, oftentimes nearly swallowed by trees and rocks. Some nicer flourishes had been added: a few balconies, a mismatched tower, and the wing where Lada and Radu lived. The fortress had also recently been repainted white with stripes of blue, and the tower painted in swirling lines.
Lada avoided most of it, preferring to spend her time with the Janissaries or in the trees on the mountain. Mehmed rarely left. When the three of them did sneak away, it was during the day to the hidden pool, but it was too cold for swimming during the day now, much less in the middle of the night.
They moved along the tree line, skirting the edge of the woods, running a course parallel to the river below. When they were a good distance from the fortress, the path began to climb. The terrain was rocky and covered with low, scrubby bushes, and navigating in the dark was difficult work.
“Where are you idiots taking me?”
“Patience, Lada,” Mehmed said.
“I am going to start sleeping with a knife.”
“If you had had a knife, you would have killed me!”
“Yes, exactly. And then I could have gone back to sleep.”
Radu snorted. “Nothing like cuddling a corpse to give you sweet dreams.”
Mehmed pointed ahead of them, to shapes looming in the dark. Lada thought they were more massive boulders in the mountainside, but as she edged around them, she saw they were carefully shaped and carved into the mountain. Ferhat’s tunnel to Shirin! Elation overtook her, the taste of cold, clear water and the sound of beating hearts rushing over her.
Then she realized what was really before her.
Tombs.
“Whose are they?” she asked, to cover her strange and embarrassing disappointment. She ran her hand along the outside of one. There was something carved, so faint she could barely feel it.
“Pontus kings who ruled here more than a thousand years ago.”
“What were their names?”
“No one remembers.”