Not that it would have mattered if he had, but the principle of it made Lada burn with rage. It was only about the door, she told herself. About the eunuch’s utter inability to see a woman as a potential threat.
She took out one of her daggers and stabbed it into the sofa. Tugging it along the length of the sofa, she created a jagged gash. Then she sheathed her dagger and fixed her veil. She stepped out into the hallway. She was perfectly capable of carrying out this mission without letting the fact that she was inside Mehmed’s harem distract her.
Her only guess was to go farther in, so she picked up a large vase with a fragrant bouquet, holding it carefully in front of herself as though she had a purpose. Carrying a bunch of flowers around seemed like a rational occupation in this gilded birdcage.
After passing several closed doors and turning down three separate hallways, Lada was hit with a wave of despair. Mehmed would probably finish with his business here and leave before she ever found him, and then what would she tell her men?
The sound of a baby crying tugged at her ears. She swerved, following the shrill donkey-like braying until she came to a room with its carved wooden doors thrown open.
She slipped inside and immediately moved to the left, where a delicately painted screen stood in front of a large, open window. She managed to slide between the screen and the wall, the sound of her movements masked by the screaming infant.
Mehmed’s laugh rang through the room, falling on Lada’s shoulders like a blow.
“Am I holding him wrong? He does not like me.”
“Of course he likes you!” The woman’s voice was sticky sweet. Lada could feel it settling in her ears and knew that no amount of scrubbing would rid her of its residue. “He is strong, see?”
“My little Beyazit. Be strong while I am gone. I will be back soon.”
Mehmed’s words effused tenderness, and Lada wished for any other scenario. She had thought the worst that would happen would be finding him with another woman, but this…
She did not know how to be angry over this.
But still she managed.
“How long will you be gone?” the woman asked.
“However long it takes to defeat Skanderberg. Will you need anything?”
“No, no, we are very well taken care of. Be safe.”
“Goodbye, my boy!”
Lada noted with some mean satisfaction that Mehmed’s tone speaking to his concubine was the same he used when addressing any servant. But he clearly felt something for the child. And the concubine had given him that.
The baby’s cries left the room. Lada heard someone stand. She stepped out from behind the screen, still holding the vase.
Mehmed barely glanced at her as he walked straight for the doorway. She threw the vase to the right of his head. He ducked as it shattered against the wall, water and flowers scattered among the sharp shards of glazed pottery.
He looked at her, face red with fury. “What in the name of—”
She ripped off her veil. For a moment his anger stayed frozen in place, then dissolved into a smile. He laughed, shaking his head. “What are you doing here, Lada?”
She closed the door. Hope lit his eyes, and he moved forward.
She twisted out of his reach. “I could have killed you.”
“By all means, kill me.” His smile was anything but concerned as he reached for her. It had been days since they had stolen a private moment.
Not here, she thought. Anywhere but here. “Skanderberg?” she asked, changing the direction of their interaction. Iskander Bey had been one of Murad’s favorite Janissaries, and now he was one of Lada’s favorites. He had been a thorn in the empire’s side for years, using what he had learned from them to keep them at bay.
Lada had studied every account of his fights with the same devotion Mehmed gave to Islam.
Mehmed’s expression closed off. “Yes, my father has declared a new campaign. I will ride with him and command a flank in the siege.”
Lada’s chest welled with excitement. She could prove herself, her men, and…she could go, finally see somewhere else, even if it was not home. “When do we leave?”
Mehmed did not meet her eyes. He leaned down and picked up several of the flowers, carefully avoiding the sharp edges of the broken vase. “I leave this afternoon.”
Lada hurried to the door. “We can be ready within the hour, I—”
Mehmed grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “You are not coming.”
“I— What? We are ready. My men are ready. My force is small in number, but we can scout, and I will—”
“You are staying here!”
Lada peeled off his hand and took a step back. “Why?”
He was suddenly fascinated by the bruised flowers in his hand. “I need to leave someone I trust in charge of the city.”
“Anyone can do that! Nothing of value will be left here!”
Mehmed’s gaze was heavy when it finally found her. “Nothing of value?”
Understanding hit Lada. She ripped the flowers from his hand and threw them to the ground. “I will not stay behind to watch your brat! I am no nursemaid!”
Mehmed blinked rapidly, then shook his head. “Lada, I was not talking about my son. Do you think he is the only thing here I value?”