Bright We Burn (The Conqueror's Saga 3)

Oana laughed, a deep, guttural burst like Bogdan’s. Lada was hit anew with longing to be anywhere but here. To be back in the mountains with Bogdan. At least she had made him stay there. He would have died, otherwise. She clutched the locket, which they had let her keep. It comforted her, knowing Wallachia was waiting. Bogdan was waiting.

Comforted and drove her mad in equal measures. What good was she to anyone here?

“I did not find any of this out myself.” Oana shifted to the side, cocking her head subtly to the left. Lada leaned against the opening and looked at where a man was sweeping the floor under the dispassionate gaze of a guard. She did not spend much time looking out the window, feeling it made her appear weak, but she should have paid more attention to who was out there.

Unlike most people, Lada had trained herself to notice that bland, blank face.

Stefan.

“He began working here two weeks before you were captured. They suspect nothing. I should go now,” Oana said with a smile. “You hold tight.” She reached a hand through the opening and rested one dry palm against Lada’s cheek. Lada watched her leave, careful to pay no further attention to Stefan.

For the first time since she had been locked up, hope fluttered in her chest. It was as small and fragile as the rodents twisted in macabre death by her bed.

Tirgoviste

WHILE RADU WAS GRATEFUL for Cyprian’s help, having him sit in on meetings was distracting. Pleasantly so, but distracting nonetheless. With all the upheaval, no one had questioned Cyprian’s presence. Radu had merely introduced him as a close friend and advisor. Radu’s men had accepted Cyprian without question. And Aron and Andrei were too busy scheming to wonder where he had come from. Fortunately the meetings were conducted in Turkish: Radu’s men did not speak Wallachian, and Aron and Andrei were fluent in Turkish.

“Radu!”

Radu tore his eyes from the teasing smile on Cyprian’s lips. “What?”

Aron frowned. “I said, how many do you think we should plan on for the celebration?”

Radu leaned back in his chair, struggling to keep his expression neutral. “I thought we agreed paying for that much food and drink as well as furnishing all the guest rooms in the castle was not the best use of resources right now.”

“We agreed on nothing,” Andrei said. “You said we need to get the boyars on our side. How else can we prove to them that we are in control?”

Radu strained to keep the incredulity he felt off his face. “The best way we can show them the country is under control is to actually get the country under control. My men are still in the mountains hunting down Lada’s forces. We have heard no word of her or her location for weeks, meaning any gathering of boyars is inherently risky. It is not like her to give us this much time to fortify. It makes me wonder what she has planned.”

“Perhaps she is dead,” Andrei said.

“She is not dead,” Radu snapped.

“How can you be sure?”

He was not sure. Or at least there was no way for him to be sure. But he could not imagine that Lada would die alone and in secret. Or that she could be dead and he would not somehow know. Surely her death would be marked by something. A comet. A great hole opening in the earth. A tempest, a flood, a fire. A force such as Lada could not depart this world without leaving one last mark.

Radu rubbed his forehead. “Regardless, until we discover news of her, we must operate as though an attack is imminent. And if we want to avoid mass starvation in the coming year, we need to plant and rehabilitate the fields as soon as possible. People have started returning to the villages. Any resources not needed for protection should go toward rebuilding.”

Aron smoothed his vest. “I think my brother is right. A show of strength is called for.”

“Thus the forces in the mountains hunting down enemies,” Cyprian muttered in Greek. Radu coughed to cover up his answering laugh.

“This is the way things are done,” Aron said. “It is what my father would have done.”

“Your father is dead, as are many of the boyars.” Radu did not mean for it to be harsh, but Aron flinched. Andrei sat straighter, a protective glare sharpening his eyes. Radu held up his hands in placation. “What I am saying is, my sister has pushed things so far past what they were, we will have to be very careful in how we put them back together. If you had a horse that got free and lived wild for a year, you would not immediately saddle it and expect to safely ride. You would bring it back, feed it, make it feel safe, and remind it why you are a good master. Lada destroyed all the stables. We need to bring everything back to its place before we can expect a return to normalcy.”

“You are the one who told us we need to act like things are normal in order for them to be so!” Aron again smoothed his vest, fixing a button that never seemed to stay fastened. “I am diverting funds for the celebration. I will repay the sultan by adding boys to the Janissary tribute. As vaivode of Wallachia, I do not need your permission.” He held Radu’s gaze firmly. “For anything,” he added.

Radu opened his mouth to argue, then closed it and pasted a smile in place. “Whatever you feel is best. I will release the funds designated to you and then continue my work as directed by the sultan. Please let me know if you require anything further.”

Radu stood, bowed stiffly, and walked from the room. He was followed by Kiril, his other lead men, and Cyprian.

“Aron is a fool,” Cyprian said with a sigh.

Radu did not disagree, and it was disheartening. “I had hoped he would do better. He is pretending like he simply inherited the throne from his father. Everything is different, though. We cannot continue on as things were. And I do not think we should.” As much as Radu had loved training with the Janissaries and valued the men he led, he also thought trading more Wallachian youth in order to throw parties was not the best footing for Aron to start on.

“How many people have come back to the city?” Radu asked Kiril.