“An ill-tempered goose with flapping flat feet.”
“What of Mehmed’s dear bride? What animal is she?”
“Yes,” a low voice interrupted. “What is my bride?”
Lada jerked, jumping away from Radu. They both stared at the floor rather than meet Mehmed’s eyes. This was the first time Radu had been close to him at any of the celebrations. Mehmed was always separated by a draped cloth or by a ring of dignitaries, always at the side of Sitti Hatun.
“We must offer our congratulations on your wedding,” Radu said.
“Stop.”
Radu looked up, surprised by Mehmed’s sharp tone.
“Please, not you, too. I cannot stand any more of this—” He waved his hand to encompass the room and everyone in it. “Do not tell me this nightmare has stolen my only two friends as well.”
Lada said nothing, looking at Mehmed with eyes that burned darker than the coal braziers.
Radu chanced a small smile. “Perhaps she is a songbird?”
Mehmed snorted in derision. “Clearly you have not heard her voice if you think that. No, my precious bride is like a cornered mouse, trembling and squeaking and utterly worthless.”
Perhaps the meanness in Radu’s chest had not been extinguished, after all, because he swelled with joy hearing this. “She is lovely, though,” he offered, whether to combat his own pettiness or in hopes that Mehmed would contradict him, he did not know.
“She is a waste of air.” Mehmed rolled his head from side to side, stretching, an angry energy to his movements. “I want to dance.”
Radu looked to the raised dais where Mehmed’s bride still sat, forlorn. It looked as though she had been crying. “I do not think Sitti Hatun wants to—”
“Not with her,” Mehmed snapped. He held out his hand to Lada. Radu stared, noticing after a few seconds that Lada was doing the same. Only she did not look at Mehmed’s proffered hand with confusion. She looked at it with rage.
“Now?” Her voice trembled with the force of keeping it quiet. “Now you want to dance? Now you want to speak with me?” The coals in her eyes had burst into flames. Radu took a knowing step back, but rather than striking, Lada turned on her heel and ran from the room.
“What did I do?” Mehmed asked, brows knit together.
Radu rubbed the back of his neck. He was not certain why Lada had reacted so strongly, but he had not had an opportunity to talk with Mehmed, and he would not waste it. “We…saw you. Before we came here. At the harem.”
Mehmed’s expression revealed nothing.
“With…your child.”
Mehmed’s eyes fell shut, and he released a heavy breath. “Ah. Yes. My son.” He put a hand on Radu’s shoulder. All the greetings, all the dancing, all the friendly touches that pass from one person to another in conversation felt like a dream. Mehmed’s touch was like waking up. “It is strange, is it not?”
Radu lit up with relief. Mehmed understood how it felt when they were together! It was normal, it was shared, they could—
“I still forget that I am a father.”
A tiny exhalation escaped Radu’s lips, carrying with it all of his false relief. “Yes. That is strange.”
“I look at the baby and he feels so foreign, like sleeping in a bed not my own.” Mehmed’s hand dropped from Radu’s shoulder, and he lifted both palms up. “Still, as my father would say, it is my duty.”
“Like Sitti Hatun.”
“Yes, like Sitti Hatun. I will be happy when this is finally over, and we can go home and get back to how things were before.”
Radu nodded. That was what he wanted, too. That was the aching, the need, the wanting inside him. How things were before.
With a brief nod, Mehmed strode away, his expression distracted. Radu watched him, always aware of where Mehmed was in the room like he was of the sun in the sky. So when Mehmed slipped out a side door as everyone’s attention was focused on a poet beginning a recitation, only Radu saw.
He knew Mehmed should not be alone. Not ever. By the time Radu got through the door, he caught only a flash of Mehmed’s purple cloak as his friend turned a corner. Radu had not been invited, and Mehmed probably needed a moment alone if he was sneaking off. So he followed, quiet and at a distance. He was so intent on not losing sight of Mehmed and remaining invisible that he did not realize where Mehmed was going until he peered around a corner and saw him pounding on Lada’s door.
“Open it!”
“Take yourself to the devil!”
“We need to talk!”
“I need nothing from you!”