RADU’S WORRIED EXPRESSION melted away when the monk informed him his sister had given birth to a baby girl. The winter was so cold they had almost not made it to the monastery in time, struggling to cross both land and lake. But they had gotten here. And now the baby had arrived as well.
Oana came from the room carrying an armful of soiled linen. “She did well.” Her voice was gruff with emotion.
Radu opened the door hesitantly, and found Nazira sitting on a chair, holding a cloth-wrapped bundle. She beamed at him with tears in her eyes. Fatima was by the bed, tucking blankets around Lada and wiping the sweat from her brow.
There was an odd squeaking noise, and Radu realized it was the baby. Radu went to Nazira and peered down. The baby had thick, dark hair, and though its face was red and swollen from its entrance into the world, Radu needed only one glance to see that this was a mix of the two people Radu would know anywhere.
This was not Bogdan’s child.
“What should we name her?” Nazira said, looking up.
“Theodora,” Lada said, her voice raw. “Who was born to nothing and grew to rule an empire.”
“She is not born to nothing.” Radu smiled down at the baby.
Fatima came over and took the baby from Nazira. She nuzzled the infant’s head, breathing in deeply. “The name is strong and beautiful. She will be, too.”
“I hope for her sake she is ugly. Now get out and let me rest,” Lada snapped. Nazira and Fatima hurried from the room with the baby. Lada turned in her bed, facing away from Radu.
He put one hand on her shoulder, felt Lada’s body contract with silent crying.
“Get out,” she said again.
He climbed onto the narrow bed and curled around her, holding her until she slept.
“How do you feel?” Radu asked.
“Like I will stab the next person who asks me how I feel,” Lada said through gritted teeth as she rode next to him.
It had been only a couple of weeks since the baby had arrived. Nazira and Fatima were still cocooned on Snagov, having found a wet nurse who was willing to stay with them as long as the baby needed. She was even willing to relocate to Edirne. Radu suspected some of her eagerness came from the handsome pay, and some from the fact that Nazira wanted her only to feed the baby and required no other work from her.
“So you will leave and have a happy home in the countryside?” Lada said.
“Yes. Cyprian will marry Fatima to make things easiest to explain.”
Lada made a thoughtful noise. “I suppose marriages always have been business arrangements to make life easier. Yours are simply odder than most.”
Radu laughed. “I still cannot quite believe we all found each other.”
“I can. You were always ruthless about finding people to love you.”
Radu opened his mouth to argue, hurt. But Lada was right. He had always been as focused and determined as she had. They simply had different goals.
“You could still come with us.”
“You could still stay here and help me rule.” She said it lightly, but there was a clipped quality to her voice that made Radu suspect the offer carried more weight than she wanted it to.
“No.” Radu had loved Mehmed and he had loved his sister, but he had no desire to serve them. Not anymore. He did not want to pay the cost of their ambitions, or to watch as they paid it, too.
Lada nodded curtly. “How long?”
“Three months. We want to wait until the baby is a bit older before we travel.”
“Well then, ride faster. I have a lot of work for you to do before you go.” But she did not pick up her own pace. She seemed content, for once, to take her time.
“I will send Oana with you,” she said, burrowing deeper into her fur-lined coat.
“Does she want to go?” Radu asked, knowing that only Lada’s wishes were what would count.
“It does not matter what she wants. I do not wish her to stay. She can help with the baby.”
Radu suspected Lada did, in fact, want Oana to stay. It was obvious in the deliberate and determined way Lada had been rejecting their nurse’s help since Theodora was born. If Lada did not care so much, she would never have been so mean.
“She will stay in Tirgoviste if you ask her.”
“I cannot have another death on my hands,” Lada said. The words came out so quickly, Radu wondered if she had meant to say them aloud. “Do you want the baby?” she asked in a swift change of subject.
Radu frowned. “Why would you ask that?”
“I know Nazira wants the baby. She would have crawled up into my womb to get it if necessary. But do you want it?”
“I did not think I ever wanted a child,” Radu said, searching his feelings. He had scarcely had an opportunity to see the baby, and held her only a few times. Fatima had turned out to be incredibly possessive. “If you recall, our own childhoods were less than pleasant.”
“You mean you have not already thought of all the ways you could leverage the infant for your own personal gain?”
Radu flinched. “I would never.”
Lada looked over at him, suddenly solemn. “I know. That is why I gave her to you. Mehmed would use her.” She paused. “I would, too, eventually. Or get her killed. I want better for her than we had. I trust Nazira and Fatima with that. And I trust you.”
Radu nodded, his chest swelling with emotions he had tried his hardest not to let surface. “I will raise her in love.”
“And strength.”
“And strength. Though I am certain we could not keep her from being strong if we tried.”
Lada reached up and undid her necklace. She held it in her hand, looking down at it. Then she took one of her knives and wrapped the necklace around the handle. She held both out to Radu. “Her inheritance. I do not expect you to ever tell her the truth of where she came from. But I want her to have these.”
Radu took them reverently, feeling the weight of Lada’s soul in his hand. “I may wait a few years to give her the knife.”
Lada waved dismissively. “I had one when I was three.”
“And look how you turned out.”
She cackled, looking at him with a smile that meant destruction, fire, or both. “First one back to Tirgoviste gets to decide whether we kill Matthias.”
Lada spurred her horse, quickly outpacing him. Radu watched as she rode forward into her destiny, knowing that she would always outpace him, would beat him to every destination. He was finished trying to catch up. It was a resignation both melancholy and peaceful.
49
Tirgoviste
LADA WATCHED LONG after Radu and his party had disappeared down the road. Spring was reclaiming the land, everything soft and green with new growth. It was a time of renewal, rebuilding. And they were leaving.
It was good that he was gone. She would no longer have to pretend, have to fake happiness or calm when she felt neither. And it would be nice to no longer have him peering over her shoulder, telling her whom she could and could not kill.
He had done a good job, though. Better than she could have done. She had treaties in place with every border that mattered. The boyars Radu worked with seemed dependable, though she would watch them closely. Her country was running the way she wanted it to. With order. With strength. With justice and fairness. If it was slower change than she wanted, she hoped Radu’s promise that it would be like a tree with deep roots, growing for decades, was true.
Lada drifted to the throne room. She sat, looking out where her father had looked out before her. Where the Danesti princes had as well.
The throne was a death sentence. She was not foolish. It would claim her eventually, as it had claimed all who came before her. All except Radu cel Frumos, the prince who had walked away. Who had chosen life and love over country.
Lada would not walk away.
Once, she had sat here with the eyes of her friends on her. Now, and forevermore, she sat here alone.