Radu closed his eyes, let his arms float, felt all the tension swirl away from him.
Then someone grabbed his ankles and dragged him under the water.
He kicked out, terrified and frantic, remembering the times Mircea would hold his head beneath the fountain until his vision went dark and his lungs nearly burst for want of air. A horrible thought clawed through Radu’s panic. Had Mircea been killed in battle and sent his spirit to drag Radu down with him?
As his scream bubbled out around him, Radu’s foot connected with a shoulder and he twisted free. He surfaced, spluttering.
Mehmed popped up next to him, water streaming down his face, white teeth shining. No ghost. Mehmed teasing, not Mircea tormenting. Mehmed’s laughter echoed around them, filling the room until they were completely cocooned by it.
Radu felt as though he were breathing in Mehmed’s laughter, warm and heavy as it filled his lungs and settled on his skin. “You scared me.” His tongue was thick and clumsy in his mouth. He had not seen Mehmed for days, had not seen him alone for weeks.
“Yes, that was apparent.” Mehmed’s lips twisted into a playful grin. “You looked like you were about to fall asleep. I was worried you would drown.”
“Well, thank you for preventing my drowning by pulling me under the water in an attempt to drown me.”
Mehmed bowed with a dramatic flourish. He was giddy, cheeks flushed brighter than the heat could account for. The war had not been going well, even with Mehmed’s father reluctantly taking the lead.
“Do you have good news?” Radu’s chest twisted tight with bands of hope. It was a strange sensation, and one he did not know what to do with. Did he hope Mehmed’s forces were winning? Was that traitorous, knowing that his own brother led troops in the conflict? Did the Ottomans winning make it more or less likely that Radu and Lada would be killed for their father’s betrayal? And then, seeing the relief shining in Mehmed’s black eyes, Radu knew what he hoped for: He hoped for the best for his friend. Regardless of what that meant for himself.
Mehmed threw his arms in the air, splashing them both. The gesture was childlike in its joyful abandon. Ever since they had returned to Edirne, with its politics and demands and war, Mehmed had held himself as unyielding and straight as a stake. Radu laughed to see him relax back into himself.
“My father has triumphed at Varna. The crusade is defeated. Hunyadi fled like a dog, and the Hungarian king’s head travels here now on the end of my father’s spear!”
Radu smiled as best he could, but his mind worried away at what this meant and how it would affect him.
Mehmed’s expression turned thoughtful. “Your father was not there.”
Feigning a casual, joking tone that could not be further from how he actually felt, Radu put a hand to his chest. “My father, the coward? Miss a battle where he has tepidly supported both sides? I am shocked.”
“I have no word on Mircea’s fate.”
“His fate is nothing to me.” Radu’s pretense of disinterest was betrayed by the bitterness that curdled his words.
Mehmed put a hand on his shoulder, the weight of it there both a comfort and a strange thrill. It made Radu feel real in a way he often struggled to. “It will work itself out,” Mehmed said. “There will be a new treaty. And my father wishes me to remain on the throne. I…think I am ready. I know that was not our plan, but the last few weeks have changed my mind. I want this. I think I can be the sultan.”
His voice raised at the end, a hint of a question lingering there.
“I think,” Radu said, putting his own hand on Mehmed’s shoulder, “you will be the greatest sultan your people have ever seen.”
“Lada does not believe in me.” Mehmed’s mouth twisted wryly. “She believes in no one but herself.”
Radu shook his head, so aware of the space between them, the water connecting their bodies. He felt secure and happy and closer to Mehmed in this moment than he had ever felt to anyone. “I believe in you enough for both of us.” Radu knew Mehmed could do this. And he would be at Mehmed’s side, helping him. Lada would, too, even if she pretended at hating life in Edirne. The world and their future opened up before him like the soaring ceiling of the mosque. Upward.
Mehmed nodded solemnly. “And you do not have to worry about your father. As long as I am on the throne, you are under my protection. I will make sure no one hurts you.”
Radu closed his eyes in relief. Finally, someone cared enough to keep him safe. Someone who actually had the power to do so. It was a very different reassurance than Lada’s promise that no one would kill him but her. Blinking away the emotion that had pooled in the corners of his eyes, Radu nodded. “But…perhaps you could make certain that no one lets my father know we are safe.”
Mehmed’s eyebrows lifted quizzically.