Kumal drew close to him a few miles outside the city. “Thank you for coming,” Radu said with a more genuine smile than he had been able to muster for Mehmed.
“Of course. It will be good to get out of the city.”
“Do you dislike it?” Radu had never heard a word of complaint from Kumal. But he had also never heard a word of remonstration for losing Kumal’s only sister. Radu wondered if Kumal was capable of cruelty. He hoped so, actually. It gave him hope to think that men like Kumal were the same as everyone else—they simply chose to be better.
Kumal looked surprised, then shook his head. “No. I am happy with my position close to the sultan. He is a good man, and I respect him. It is an honor to serve our people. But it is difficult not to feel like we are doing nothing while waiting for word of Nazira.”
Radu hunched his shoulders reflexively. He knew Kumal did not bring up Nazira to chastise him, but he could not escape his guilt over her continued absence.
Kumal noticed his discomfort and drew his horse even closer. “You made the best decision you could have at an impossible time. I know you did everything in your power to protect her. I meant that staying in one place waiting will drive a man insane. It is good to be going out, being active, defending the empire. We will continue to hope and pray for word of Nazira’s safety. But that can be done just as well from the road.”
Radu nodded, feeling slightly less burdened. “Thank you. You have always been a friend to me.”
“You are my brother.”
Radu laughed. “You are certainly the brother I chose. My own brother was never a friend.”
“Speaking of your siblings, what is the plan for your sister? Will you try to negotiate first?”
“I am sending word ahead for her to meet us at our outpost in Giurgiu. She will come to see me, I think, even without specific promises. When she arrives, we separate her from her men and bring her back to Constantinople.”
“How much force are you prepared to use?”
Radu shifted uneasily in his saddle, hunching deeper into his furs. It had seemed like a good plan when discussing it with Mehmed and Mara. But Radu had not thought through the specifics. Lada would not want to come. That much was obvious. Would he have to kill her men? What if Bogdan was with her? Radu had never liked Bogdan; he encouraged the worst in Lada through his dogged loyalty. But Radu did not want to kill him. Or Nicolae. He had always thought Nicolae superior to the rest of Lada’s men. Funny and smart, even kind sometimes.
And then there was Lada herself. Radu imagined tying her up, bringing her back in one of their supply wagons. She would fight them the whole way, otherwise. And once they got her back, what then? A prison cell?
Radu sighed, rubbing his eyes. “As much force as it takes.” He could not see a happy resolution to this plan, but he could not leave Lada to her continued aggressions.
“Is that the right thing to do? Bring her in under false pretenses of peace, and then kidnap her?” Kumal did not sound angry, but there was disapproval in his soft tone. He had not contributed much during their planning. He still deferred to Mehmed and would not disagree with him, but with Radu, he was more comfortable.
“It will save lives in the long run.” Radu held out his hands, then dropped them helplessly to his sides. “And it will save her life, too. Mara was right. She cannot go on like this. Someone will kill her. I would rather her safe in Constantinople in prison than in an unmarked grave next to our father and brother.”
Kumal nodded. “Very well, then. If you think this is the best course of action, I will do everything in my power to support you. Sometimes we must work in subterfuge. Though I must admit, it fits me like a too-small tunic. I have no skill or taste for it.”
“That is because you are a good, honest man.” Radu could not smile this time. He slipped into subterfuge as easily as sliding into a warm bath. It had always been his greatest skill, saying and doing whatever it took to survive.
Now he would say and do whatever it took to make sure his sister survived. Even if she never forgave him for it.
Two days into their journey north toward the fortress at Giurgiu that marked the edge of Ottoman-controlled land, a messenger caught up with them.
“I was sent by Mara Brankovic,” he said, covered in dust and holding out a letter.
Radu took it, puzzled. What would Mara need to communicate with him so desperately? He broke the seal and opened it. One of the sheets was a note from Mara. The elegant lines of her writing cut him apart. He could not catch his breath, could not manage to look at the next letter.
“What is it?” Kumal asked.
“Mara. She found word of Nazira. I cannot— Kumal, I cannot read it.” Radu trembled, too terrified to learn what had happened to Nazira. Not knowing had been awful, but holding her fate in his hands was worse. He could not bear it if she was dead.
Kumal gently took the letters from Radu. Radu kept his eyes fixed on the ground. Watching Kumal for a reaction was the same as reading the letter. He wanted to pause time here, forever, where he did not have to know if his truest friend was dead and it was his fault.
Kumal let out a sharp, relieved breath and praised God. Radu was pierced through with hope and dared to look up. Tears shone in Kumal’s eyes, and he smiled. “She is alive.”
A gasp tore free from Radu’s chest, loosing all the months of torment and fear. “She is alive?”
“She is.” Kumal scanned the letter again. “They were shipwrecked on an island in the Sea of Marmara. Nazira was unharmed. Cyprian and the servant boy were badly injured. She had to stay to care for them and did not have a way to send word until she could travel to a more populated area.”
Nazira was alive. Cyprian and Valentin were hurt. “Are they …? Did Cyprian and Valentin recover?”
“It does not say. This is not written by Nazira herself. It is from one of Mara’s contacts. The writer says he can escort Nazira as far as the port city of Bursa, but that she will need someone to meet her there.”
Radu was already turning his horse. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and lifted his face toward the heavens. Breathing in gratitude, breathing out fear. Breathing in hope, breathing out worry. Nazira was alive and well. He had not killed his truest, dearest friend. He would bring Fatima’s wife home to her.
And Cyprian.
If Cyprian and Valentin were dead, the letter would have noted it. Surely they were well, which was all he could ask for. Anything more was too selfish on his part after everything he had done.
“You should go to her.” Radu smiled at Kumal.
Kumal’s warm eyes were filled with tears. He shook his head, a smile lighting his face. The same kind, gentle smile that had been a lifeline to Radu as a terrified and lost young boy in a foreign land. “You are her husband. Go and get her.”
“But Lada …”
“I will see to everything. I promise I will treat her with respect and as much gentleness as I can. Let me take care of your sister while you go take care of mine.”
Radu laughed, reaching out and clasping Kumal’s hand. “Thank you, my brother. I will bring her home.” Radu turned his horse toward the route that would take him to Bursa and Nazira. He paused. “Please be careful with my sister.”
“I promise I will be kind.”
“No, I mean, be cautious. For yourself.”
Kumal’s expression turned colder and decidedly grimmer. “I have read the reports. I will not underestimate her.”
With another shared nod, Radu and Kumal parted ways to retrieve sisters who needed to return to the empire. One as a rescue, the other as a prisoner.
11
Tirgoviste
“WHAT DID THIS one do?” Lada asked, sharpening daggers while a motley group of prisoners waited in front of her throne, surrounded by her own soldiers.
“Rape,” answered Bogdan.