“Of course I did.”
She shook her head. “Not when I was falling. When Ilyas had us both on the floor. You chose me over Mehmed.”
“You are my family,” he whispered. Lazar had been right, after all.
He held her, stroking her hair and crying, the sound of the door finally breaking open and Lada’s men pouring into the room a distant, dull roar.
ILYAS HAD NOT DIED in the fall, though Lada suspected that he wished he had. She was surprised to find Kazanci Dogan exonerated by the information the prison guards extracted from Ilyas. Kazanci Dogan had not been in on the assassination plot, merely encouraged to hold Edirne hostage for even higher pay increases.
It had been a simple matter for Ilyas to walk through the palace, commanding Janissaries to go into the city and put out fires. Leaving only him and his accomplice Janissary to know the truth of the mission.
Lada shifted on her seat, her side complaining doggedly when she moved and when she did not move and when she did or did not do anything at all. She did not feel like herself, head aching and tired after even modest exertion. Still, she would heal.
She glanced over at Radu. His eyes were unfocused as he stared at the courtyard.
The head gardener raised the stake, planting Ilyas. Ilyas, who had allowed her to train with his men. Ilyas, who had given her a chance to prove herself and accepted it when she did. Ilyas, who had given her responsibility in an empire where she should have been invisible.
Ilyas, who had stabbed her.
She did not know whether to hope he died quickly or lingered in agony. His accomplice was more fortunate, having bled to death on the floor while a physician sewed Lada together with black thread.
“You did him a kindness,” she said to Radu, her voice low so it would not carry beyond them to Mehmed or the gathered officials. Grand Vizier Halil
was there. He had not been implicated. But he was also in charge of the rotations of prison guards who extracted the information.
“Who did I do a kindness?” Radu did not look at her, his tone lifeless.
“The Janissary you killed. The accomplice.”
A spasm of pain twisted Radu’s features. “Lazar. His name was Lazar.”
“You knew him?”
Radu did not respond. Lada wished for some sense of what to do, some knowledge of the ways people comforted each other. Were their positions reversed, Radu would know what to say.
“Was he the first man you have killed?”
“No. But he is the first I murdered.”
Lada scoffed. “He was a traitor. And you saved him the agony of prolonged death. It is more than he deserved.”
“He was only there to protect me.” Radu gave her a bleak grin she did not recognize, a tortured imitation of humor. “He was worried I would be hurt.”
Lada reached for Radu’s hand and was surprised when he accepted it. She squeezed, once. “You saved all our lives.”
“You once told me some lives are worth more than others. How many deaths before the scales tip out of our favor?”
She had no answer.
With Ilyas executed, the official story was that the Janissaries had simply revolted, behaving badly as they occasionally did. That same afternoon, Mehmed had Kazanci Dogan dismissed and publicly flogged until his back was more blood than skin. He announced a universal pay increase for the Janissaries, as well as sweeping reform in the structure of the military. Mehmed would be the head. Every thread of power and authority would start and end with him.
A few days after the attack, Lada was strong enough to join Mehmed in his study to go over the restructuring. Radu was already there. He looked haunted, moving too quickly through the outer rooms, eyes fixed ahead.
Lada remembered the hillside forest she could no longer enter in Amasya and felt pity for Radu. She was about to suggest they move to the gardens when they were surprised by the arrival of a eunuch escorting Halima.
“Halima Hatun,” the eunuch announced. She bowed, straightening with a shy smile for Lada and a low wave. Lada had forgotten how pretty she was and quickly tamped down a flare of jealousy. Mehmed would not want a woman who had borne his father’s son.
Mehmed stood, confusion masked with a bright tone. “Halima, to what do I owe the honor?”