Constantine had not waited long before reminding Mehmed of the threat of his pretender to the throne. Worse, he had the audacity to ask Mehmed to increase payments to Constantinople for the keeping of Orhan.
Mehmed steepled his fingers thoughtfully beneath his chin, waiting until the lead envoy member had finished reading. “My,” he said, as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather, “it would appear Orhan is an expensive guest.”
No one laughed. The tension in the room hung heavy, as though everyone had sucked in a breath and refused to relinquish the air. The envoys were pale. The youngest no longer looked anywhere but a fixed point on the wall. Though their faces were brave, sweat beaded beneath their hats, betraying their nerves at coming to the new sultan with such a demand.
Mehmed turned to Halil. “You have more experience with Byzantium than I do. Does this seem fair?”
Halil raised a trembling hand to dab at his brow. “Yes.” He nodded to himself, as though encouraging his voice to be firmer. “Yes, I think the terms are quite reasonable. If I were to advise your grace, I would say we should agree to the demands. It is better to keep Orhan where he is, and to give Constantinople a show of good faith.”
Mehmed turned back to the envoy. “Very well. Halil, my esteemed vizier, will see that you are taken care of tonight. Tomorrow we send you home with news for our ally, Constantine, and a renewed era of goodwill between our great empires.”
The envoy’s bows were less formal this time, their movements fast and deep with relief. The gray-eyed young man caught Radu’s gaze one last time. A quick smile like a secret fluttered over his lips. Radu felt a matching flutter somewhere inside. Then Halil escorted them out, followed by his main advisors.
Radu shook his head to clear it. He was still out of sorts from spending time in the country. And this was a big, interesting development.
Mehmed dismissed most of the other men. He kept Radu, Kumal, Ilyas, the leader of the Edirne spahis, and Kazanci Dogan behind. Under Radu’s advice, Mehmed had decided to spare Kazanci Dogan for the time being. They knew he could be bought, and they needed every ally they could secure.
Leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms overhead, Mehmed yawned. “My friends,” he said, “I would like to discuss our navy.”
“What navy?” Radu asked.
“Precisely.” Mehmed’s smile was a predatory fish slicing through the water. “Bring me reports on the ships we have, and, more important, the ships we do not have. And do it in secret.”
The men were wise enough to keep their curiosity modestly clothed with their expressions.
Mehmed dismissed them, gesturing for Lada’s soldier to wait outside the door. As soon as they were alone, the portent of bad news Radu had seen when he entered the room reappeared on Mehmed’s face.
“What is it?” Radu fought growing dread. “Are you upset with me? I am sorry I did not give you more warning of my marriage. I scarcely know how it all came about so quickly. But Nazira is—”
“No, no. It is nothing to do with that. I am happy for you.” Mehmed paced, distracted, his words lacking any weight. “She is lovely and a good match. And you will still be here.” He stopped and looked up. A hint of fear mingled with the trouble behind his eyes. “You will still be here.”
“Of course.”
“I depend on you. I trust you as I trust no one else.”
Radu smiled, lifting a hand to his heart. “And I you.”
“Do you remember a man from your childhood? Lada’s friend? Bogdan?”
Radu wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Yes. They were always teasing me. He was an oaf.”
Mehmed scowled. “He is here.”
“What? Here?”
“Nicolae found him.”
Panic clawed through Radu’s chest, and he was suddenly eight again, too timid, too quick to cry, too easy a target. Bogdan had forced him to put on his nurse’s shawl, taunting that if Radu loved her so much, he may as well be her. Worse had been the fear that, no matter what, his nurse would always love Bogdan more. No matter how hard Radu wished, Bogdan was her child, Radu her charge.
Bogdan being taken away had been one of the highlights of his childhood, because it left him unlimited access to his nurse’s heart.
And Lada’s.
But now Lada was not his, had not been for a long time. And she had Mehmed. And she had Bogdan back, too. A spot behind Radu’s eyes pulsed with a stab of white-hot pain.
“I hate him.” Radu cringed, knowing he should have censored his words better. But there was something triumphant in Mehmed’s face, as though Radu had proved a point.