And I Darken (The Conqueror's Saga 1)

Pasha. I am sending him to Anatolia to be the new beylerbey. I want Ishak away from Halil. They are too strong together.”

“Yes, that is wise. Though I still think Halil would better serve you from the top of a stake.” Huma stood, holding out an arm. The eunuch who had escorted her hurried to her side. “And you are wrong about how to deal with the baby Ahmet. But you must do what you think is best.”

“I will.”

After she was gone, Mehmed sighed. “It is hard, seeing her so weak.”

“I think she has never been weak. She frightens me as much as she ever did. And…she has a point.” Lada’s mouth curled down; she hated to agree with Huma. She even felt sorry for Halima. “If Constantinople is leveraging a distant cousin against you, imagine what they could do with access to Murad’s other son. Halil will try to use him.”

“I will keep him away from Halil. And by the time Ahmet is old enough to be useful, we should be done with that wretched pasha.”

“Vizier,” Lada corrected Mehmed, and he stuck out his tongue. “It was Radu’s idea, remember. If you had listened to me, Halil would be dead.”

“I know, I know. But we have to think further ahead. We are building a foundation. Each stone must be considered. We have to dismantle the wall Halil has built before removing him. Otherwise more stones would fill in the gap, and the wall would still be in my way. Radu is right about that.”

“And what does wise, clever Radu think about Ahmet? Is he a stone, or a weakness that threatens the whole building?”

Mehmed did not answer.

THE ROYAL CLERK’S INK-STAINED fingers drummed nervously on his legs. His voice was halting and garbled, as though unused to speaking. “You want to see the tax records?”

Mehmed’s face was a mask of patience. “Yes. I want to see accountings for the tax revenues.”

Radu pitied the clerk, whose brow was beaded with sweat. He suspected the man had never before been called in front of a sultan.

“Which taxes?”

Mehmed did not smile. “All of them.”

“All—all of them?”

“All of them. I want to trace every coin that comes into the treasury, and every coin that leaves it. I want to see what every state and city is making, who is in charge, how they are spending my gold, and what there is to show for it. Wages. Allowances. Payments to foreign countries. Payments made by vassal states.”

“But—it will be weeks before I can gather enough information for us to go through, and it would be a massive undertaking.”

“Then you had better start. Now.”

The man scurried from the room as though Mehmed’s declaration were whipping his heels. Mehmed sighed, rubbing his forehead. “We have lost so much time. It will take me months, years perhaps, to get everything in order. When I think of how far I could be if my father had not taken back the throne, if I had not been banished again to Amasya…”

Radu tasted Mehmed’s anger, and his tongue dried in his mouth. Though they had never spoken of it, Radu often wondered if Lada, too, regretted what they had done. Maybe there had been another way. A way that would have let Mehmed keep the throne the first time he inherited it. They had been scared. They had been children. And they had made a decision that impacted Mehmed’s future without consulting him.

“Are you well?” Mehmed asked.

“Yes! Yes. I am simply nervous. I meet with Kumal and Nazira today.”

“Why would that make you nervous?”

Radu realized with a pang that although he and Mehmed were together nearly every day, they had not fallen back into their comfortable ease of telling each other everything. Radu had too many secrets he could not afford to reveal, and so he spoke as little as possible. It was easy. Mehmed always had people around him. Even now there were two guards in the room and a squat, thick-fingered man who held a stool for Mehmed’s feet. Their presence did not lend itself to intimacy, which might have hurt Radu before, but now seemed a tender mercy.

“Did I not tell you? Kumal wants me to marry Nazira.”

Mehmed sat back as though struck. The stool-carrier jumped forward, but Mehmed waved him away. “Marry her? You would leave me?”

Radu felt a flutter of something—not quite hope, but its darker, more desperate cousin. Perhaps the disbelief and hint of anger from Mehmed was jealousy. “Am I not allowed to marry? I know the Janissaries cannot, but I am not clear on what, exactly, I am here.”

Mehmed’s face softened. “You are my friend. You are certainly not a slave. If you want to marry her…” Mehmed trailed off, his eyebrows lowering as he examined Radu with an intensity that made it difficult for Radu to breathe.

“I do not love her.” The words tumbled from his mouth like pebbles in a stream, cold and clacking together. He did not know where they would land, but he kept talking. “I care about and for her, and Kumal has been very kind to me. I am not certain I am a good match for Nazira, though. I think she could marry higher and be better off. And my first duty—my only duty—will always be to you. No one could take me from that.”