Yet, she vowed. She had no power yet.
RADU HAD ALWAYS HATED Bogdan, hated that he stole Lada’s time and attention, hated the way he tugged on Radu’s hair, or pulled his ear, or sneered when Radu scraped a knee and could not help crying.
Hated most of all that Bogdan ignored him the rest of the time.
And now Bogdan had stolen Radu’s nurse, leaving a hollow shell behind. It was Bogdan’s own fault he was gone. He had to ruin everything else on his way out, too.
Radu’s rooms were a suffocating sepulchre to Bogdan. His nurse wept in her chair, sewing basket dormant beside her. Lada was worse, though. Normally when something did not go her way, she became a torrent of rage, a sweeping storm that flew in and overwhelmed everything, working itself out as quickly as it had descended.
With Bogdan’s loss, however, Lada was silent. Staring. Calm.
It terrified Radu.
He tucked himself into a corner of the stables, a dark, musty spot where only someone looking could find him. No one was ever looking for Radu. A spider crawled down his hand and he lifted it, gently placing the spider on a wood beam where it would be safe.
Two swaggering Janissaries led their sweating and quivering horses into the stables. Radu watched through narrowed eyes as they efficiently wiped down the horses, watered them, and got them fresh feed.
When Mircea returned from riding, he always jumped down, threw his reins at a servant, and walked off. Mircea whipped his horses, too, the angry furrows in their flanks marking them as his favorites. Once, Radu had been watching when no stableboy was present. Mircea simply got off his horse, a long gash on its leg seeping blood, and left.
Radu wanted to hate all Janissaries out of loyalty to Lada, but he liked the way they took care of their animals. He also liked their funny hats, and the way they always had someone. There was never a Janissary by himself.
The two men had been talking in low, comfortable voices the whole time. “Have you noticed the new animal in here?” one asked. His back was to Radu.
The other Janissary, a young man with pockmarked skin and dark eyes, shook his head.
“A shy creature. I should think he’s very valuable, but I have yet to see anyone take him out for a ride. Pity.”
“Oh, do you mean the pale one? Big eyes? Curly hair? Hides in a corner?”
Fear seized Radu. They knew he was here. What would they do to him?
“Yes, that one! Seems a sad little thing. Perhaps if he made friends with some of the other animals…” The Janissary straightened, and turned his head, smiling with kind eyes at Radu’s hiding spot. “Would you like to help us with the horses?”
Radu did not move.
“This one is very gentle. See?” The Janissary nuzzled the horse’s head with his own. The horse huffed right in his face, and both soldiers laughed. “Come on, come meet your stablemate.”
Radu shuffled forward, pressed against the stall doors, eyes darting to the entrance.
The Janissary held out a stiff-bristled brush. “Here now, make yourself useful. We have to bend over so far to reach the lower spots. Help save our poor aching backs.”
The brush was heavy in Radu’s hand. He reached out with it, hesitant, barely touching the horse. He had been trained to ride, but Mircea had been in charge, which meant Lada became wild and competitive and Radu got yelled at the whole time. He still had a mark on the back of his neck from where Mircea whipped him once. Mircea claimed he had been aiming for the horse.
The kind-eyed Janissary put his hand over Radu’s, showing him how to stroke, how much pressure to use. “I take it you are not a stableboy.”
Radu shook his head, keeping his eyes down.
“Oh, I know who our little creature is!” The pockmarked Janissary grinned, a gap-toothed smile. “Do they keep all the little princes in the stables? What odd customs Wallachia has! I trust you like eating oats?”
Radu knew he was being teased, but it felt kind. Playful. He ventured a smile. “I prefer cake.”
Both Janissaries laughed, one patting him on the shoulder. Unlike when Mircea did it, it was simply a pat on the shoulder, and not a disguised blow.
Radu helped the soldiers with the rest of their chores, asking a few questions but mostly listening. When they were finished, they told him to meet them there earlier the next day to help exercise the horses. He practically skipped back to his rooms, breathless and flushed with happiness. Lada, thankfully, was nowhere to be found. His nurse was in her usual spot. Radu climbed onto her chair and snuggled into her side, putting his hand on the back of her neck. She sighed, not looking at him.
“Did you know,” Radu said, as carefully as he had set the spider down, “that Janissaries are very prestigious in Ottoman society?”
His nurse frowned, and looked at him for the first time in days.