Radu held up the letter, his hand trembling. “Maybe this has answers.”
Lada cracked the seal and opened the letter. The ink was so fresh Radu could smell it. His eyes went immediately to the signature.
“Halil Pasha.” Lada spat his name like a curse. She did not even elbow Radu away as he leaned against her to scan the letter. “He is writing to Constantinople. Reassuring them that Mehmed will never lead the Ottoman troops against them.”
“But he cannot promise that! Mehmed is determined to…” Radu stopped.
Lada met his eyes, her own heavy with knowledge. “He can promise that. Mehmed cannot lead Ottoman troops against them if he is dead.”
Radu stood up. “We have to tell someone! Halil Pasha will be arrested, and—”
“And who will arrest him? The sultan’s Janissaries? They hate Mehmed. We do not know which of them—or how many, or how high up—knew of the attempt. And who would believe us? This says nothing of killing Mehmed, or having already tried to. It is flimsy evidence against a powerful man.”
“We have to do something!”
Lada scowled. “If only Murad had come back like he was supposed to, none of this would be happening!”
“Mehmed will not give up the throne. He wants it now. There has to be another way to help him.”
Lada folded the letter, tapping it absently against her leg. “What would you sacrifice for power?”
“What?”
She looked up at him, brows furrowed, an expression of intense thought on her face. “For power, Halil Pasha would kill Mehmed. For power, the Janissaries would abandon their duty to the throne. Everyone is willing to sacrifice Mehmed. We must figure out how to do it first.”
Radu backed up, aghast. “We have to protect him! I will not let you sacrifice him!” He turned to leave. Lada grabbed his arm but he shook her off, turning the door handle. Lada knocked him to the ground, her knee digging into his back.
“Shut up and listen to me! Something must be sacrificed. That something is Mehmed. We sacrifice Mehmed’s throne now, so that he lives to take it later. If he stays, he will die. We keep him safe until he is older. Smarter. Stronger. When he will come to the throne not as a powerless child but as his precious hand of God on Earth.”
“Do not mock him!”
“We will lose everything, Radu.” Lada’s voice was ragged, and Radu felt a sudden fear that if he could see her face, she would be crying. That terrified him more than anything, the idea of Lada breaking down. The man she had killed, the attack, they were foreign to him. He had not seen them or felt them in any real way. But Lada crying meant the end of his world. If Lada could not be strong, how could he ever hope to be?
She continued. “Mehmed is our only protection. Do you think I want to see him powerless? Without Mehmed in charge, we face execution for our father’s crimes.”
“So we help him! We figure out how to beat Halil Pasha!”
“We would be gambling with Mehmed’s life. The next assassination attempt will not fail.” She leaned heavily on top of him, easing her knee off his back. “Our lives were forfeit the moment Father brought us here. I cannot…” She paused, and her voice got softer. She tangled her fingers in one of his curls, tugging like she used to when they were small, but with no force. “I will not risk Mehmed’s life on the chance that it will work out in our favor.”
“It does not matter. Mehmed will never give up the throne.” If Lada had seen him that day in the baths—seen his joy and his determination—she would understand. Mehmed was the sultan now, with as much passion as he had for everything he set his sights on. Lada moved, her back against the door. Radu joined her, shoulder to shoulder. “If we ask him to abdicate, if we tell him he cannot stay sultan, he will never forgive us. We will lose his friendship and his trust.”
“Then we arrange for the throne to be taken from him. It is that, or his death. The throne and his pride, or his life, Radu.”
Radu thought of his friend, thought of the fire in his heart that was burning ever brighter as he worked to claim his destiny. He thought of it all being taken away in the most humiliating way possible.
He thought of Mehmed’s spark being taken from the world forever.
He leaned his head against the heavy wood of the door. It would break Mehmed. But it would save him. “How do we do it?”
Lada rested her hand where a sword would be sheathed if she were practicing with the Janissaries. “I think I have an idea.”
“You want me to what?” Huma asked. Laughter teased her voice, but there was violence behind her eyes.
“Get the Janissaries to revolt.”