“The devil take you, Mehmed!” she screamed, filled with sorrow poisoned by rage. This was his fault. She had stayed for him, had let him lull her into feeling like she had security, safety, a future. But, as always, she was at the mercy of the men in her life. And, just like her father, Mehmed had abandoned her.
“And where is the devil to take me?”
Lada whirled around, heart racing. Mehmed leaned in the doorway, mirth twisting the new form the siege had carved his weary face into. He looked haggard, his cheeks stubbled, dark circles beneath his eyes showing weeks of poor sleep. He crossed the room to her, arms open.
“You died!” She pushed him away, staring at his face. He was changed, but it was him. Alive. Healthy.
“Did I? That is disappointing. I was very much looking forward to being alive for our reunion. Though I feared you would kill me.”
She pulled him close, letting him hold her, shaking in disbelief over her miracle. “I had a letter. It said…I thought you were dead.” She dug the letter free and held it out. Frowning, Mehmed took it. The line between his brows deepened.
She loved that line. She had thought it lost forever. Relief and joy warred with anger. Because when he was gone, she had been left with nothing. She could no longer pretend that she had a life of her own here. But now he was back. And it left her…confused.
“This is not Radu’s writing, but the signature is his. Whoever wrote this, it was not him. Someone wanted you to leave.” Mehmed frowned at the letter as though it would reveal its secrets. “Who would wish this?”
For a few dark moments—the darkest of her life, even worse than thinking Mehmed dead—Lada wondered if Radu had been behind it, after all. She had what he wanted. It would have been a perfect way to get rid of her without killing her.
But no. She could not think that of him. Whatever else was between them, Radu would not harm her this deeply. Because she would never do it to him, and Radu was not capable of being crueler than she was.
Mehmed continued. “It would have to be someone in his inner circle. Someone with access to his signature.” He looked up at her expectantly.
“You would know better than I.” Her tongue was dipped in the venom left from months of waiting and a week of grief. “I have been here, right where you left me. While Radu was at your side.”
Mehmed shook his head. “He is with my father. I saw him but once. He commands a small group directly under the sultan.”
“Then it could be anyone. I am no favorite of your father’s, or of Halil Pasha’s, or any number of men. My absence would not be mourned.”
“I would mourn it. Every moment of every day.”
“Did you?”
Mehmed’s eyes were heavy with longing. “I did.”
She turned away. “I was going to leave.”
He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. “I forbid it.”
“You can forbid me nothing.” But it sounded hollow and forced when she said it. She had spent the last week knowing exactly her value without him. It was a stolen horse, a single loyal friend, and a bleak and difficult future.
He moved from her hair to her ear, trailing his lips along it. Her body responded despite her resolve to be angry, to punish him.
He still wanted her. And she knew now what a fleeting and precious thing it was for a woman to be wanted in any way that made her important. She had been ready to run when she had lost this, but now…
She would never admit it to Nicolae, could barely admit it to herself, but she would stay for Mehmed. She would stay for the way she felt when his mouth or eyes were on her. And she would stay for the power it gave her.
His lips found hers, and she kissed him back with a determined ferocity. She touched him everywhere, his face, his hair, his shoulders, his hands, because he was here, and he was alive, and it was the first time that a man she loved had come back for her. She did not have to lose the life she had built here, the threads of safety and power she had. She had not lost him.
“Say you are mine.” He trailed his lips down her neck. She arched into him, digging her fingers into his back.
“I am yours,” she whispered. The words cut like knives, barely out of her mouth before he stole them, sealing them with his own lips.
THE CARAVAN TRAVELED SLOWER than the rest of the army, left behind to follow the trail of a hundred thousand failures beaten into the dirt ahead of them.
Radu was in no hurry to catch up.
He had received begrudging permission from Murad to attend to Kumal’s contingent as they tried to keep him alive long enough to get home. Though Radu knew it would accomplish nothing toward his larger goals of aiding Mehmed’s ascension, he could not simply leave Kumal behind. Not like this. Kumal had begun to improve, but he was still fragile enough that Radu feared he would not survive the journey.