RADU WAITED, BREATHLESS WITH excitement as he watched the caravan approach the keep. There was a fine carriage in the center, with twenty Janissaries and a couple of mounted eunuchs, which Radu thought odd. However, the presence of the eunuchs was explained when the carriage opened to reveal a different member of the sultan’s family than the one Radu was desperate to be reunited with.
Huma stepped out, distaste written across her features as she took in Amasya clinging to the river beneath them. The sight of her after two years—knowing what their last meeting had been about—filled Radu with fear.
“Radu! Look how you have grown.” She held out her arms and Radu took her hands in his, unsure of how to greet her.
“You look well.”
She laughed, the sound low and itching, like a breath full of smoke. “Appearances are deceiving. He is not with me, so you can stop watching over my shoulder.”
Radu gave a false smile. “What brings you to Amasya, if not returning with Mehmed?” He wanted nothing more than to ask her when Mehmed would be returning, what the delay was. But he felt it important to appear calm.
“I am here on family matters.”
“But…Mehmed is still in Edirne? What family matters do you have here without him?”
Huma watched his face for a few heartbeats and then laughed again. “You really do not know much about my son’s life, do you? Sweet boy.” She patted his cheek, her hand dry and soft. “Come, take me inside. We will catch up. Call for your charming sister so we can reunite our happy band.”
“She will be with the Janissaries. Since they returned, I have hardly seen her.”
Huma made an interested sound in the back of her throat but said nothing. After she was settled in one of the keep’s nicest apartments, Radu went to find Lada. He could have sent for her, but he did not want to stay in Huma’s company alone. The secret between Lada and himself felt like a burden but still a bond. With Huma here, it felt like a threat.
The Janissaries who had arrived with Huma were unloading gear. “Can you show us the barracks?” one asked.
“I am going there now. You can follow.” He turned to gesture to the soldier, then froze, trying to place how he knew him. The man’s face was round, with full lips over gapped teeth; it promised a heaviness that was at odds with his long limbs and slim build. He looked much younger than Radu had remembered, now that Radu was nearly as tall as him. “Lazar!”
Lazar smiled, puzzled. “Do we know each other?”
“I have looked for you ever since we got here! I cannot believe this!” Radu grasped Lazar’s shoulders, and finally Lazar’s face erupted in the warm, open smile Radu had found such comfort in a lifetime ago.
“The little boy from the stables! Can it be?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I have been reassigned to Ilyas’s men. We all have.”
“I am so glad! It is a joy to see you. It truly is.” Radu could not take his eyes off Lazar’s face, could not believe this friend lost to him so long ago was back. It softened some of the sting of his disappointed hopes for Mehmed’s return.
“My presence does not usually elicit such joy. I will make a point of disappearing from your life for years only to surprise you again more often.” Lazar put an arm around Radu’s shoulders, and they walked to the barracks together.
Lazar was quickly drawn away by logistical duties, but with a promise that they would be seeing much of each other. Humming with happiness, Radu found Lada. His mood fell as he remembered why he was there.
“Huma is here,” he said without preamble.
Lada flinched, putting away the sword she had been sharpening. “Mehmed?”
“No. She wants to see us.”
“I do not wish to see her.”
“Lada,” Radu said, and Lada hung her head, resigned. She had to know, as he did, that Huma could always have whatever she wanted of them.
When Radu and Lada entered the sitting room, Huma had her hands buried in a large piece of carefully embroidered cloth. She looked up, smiling brightly. “Lada, dear girl. Do you have any thread?”
Radu did not understand the humorless, near-hysterical laugh that burst out of Lada’s mouth. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I have no threads. Not a single one.”
Huma raised an eyebrow at Lada’s outburst, then swept her eyes up and down Lada as though she were a crumb on the floor. “I see you have not given up your pursuit of becoming a man.”
“I have no desire to be a man,” Lada snapped, coming back to herself.
“And yet you wear trousers and train with the Janissaries.”
“Yes, when otherwise I could be sitting in this room with you, invisible, sewing and growing old. How strange I should choose something else.”