“I sent her from the city on a boat with a trusted friend. But whether they got out, and where they went if they did, I do not know.” He had inquired after the boat and received no concrete word of its fate. His only hope was that once news traveled that Constantinople was open to Christian refugees and Ottoman citizens alike, Nazira would return.
“God will protect her.” Kumal took Radu’s hand and squeezed it. “We have fulfilled the words of the Prophet, peace be upon him. Her work in helping us will not be forgotten, nor go unrewarded by God.”
“How can you say that? How can you be so sure of the rightness of this? Did you not see what it cost? Were you not at the same battles I was?”
Kumal’s kind smile was sad. “I have faith because I must. At times like this, it is only through God that we can find comfort and meaning.”
Radu shook his head. “I despair that my time here has cost me even that. I do not know how to live in a world where everyone is right and everyone is wrong. Constantine was a good man, and he was also a fool who threw away the lives of his people. I have loved Mehmed with everything I am since I was a child, and I have longed to enter this city triumphant with him. But now that we are here, I cannot look at him without hearing the cries of the dying, without seeing the blood on my hands. Nazira and I—we ate and dreamed and walked and bled with these people. And now they are gone, and my people are here, but I do not know who I am anymore.”
Kumal said nothing, but he held Radu close as Radu cried.
“Give yourself some time,” Kumal whispered. “All will come right in the end. All these experiences will lead you to new ways to serve God on earth.”
Radu did not see how that was possible. He loved Kumal for trying to comfort and guide him, but he was no longer a lost little boy in a strange new city. Now he was a lost man in a broken old city, and no amount of prayers and kindness could undo what had been done.
Two weeks after the city fell, Mehmed asked Radu to meet him in the palace. He had set up a temporary residence there, already beginning construction on what would be his grand palace. A home to rival all others, a refuge from the world.
Radu passed a woman in the hallway.
“Radu?”
He blinked, focusing on her. “Urbana? I thought you were dead!”
Half her face was shiny with new scars, but she smiled. “No. And I got the forges at Constantinople, after all. I won!”
Radu tried to meet her happiness, but it was too large a task for him. “I am glad for you.”
“You are welcome to help me any time you want.” She patted his arm, already distracted and doubtless planning her next cannon. Radu watched her walk away, glad she had survived.
Then he saw two other familiar faces. Aron and Andrei Danesti. “Radu,” Andrei said. “I know you now.”
Radu did not bother bowing or showing respect. He was too tired for pretense. “Yes.”
“It is good to see you,” Aron said. “Will you take a meal with us later?”
“Do you mean that, or do you want something from me?”
Aron’s face and voice were soft. “Only the company of someone who speaks Wallachian and understands some of what we have been through these last months. And I want to apologize for our youth together. We were cruel. There is no excuse for that. It does my heart good, though, to see the man you have grown into. I would like to get to know you.”
Radu thought he would like to know himself, too. He felt like a stranger in his own skin. Sighing, he nodded. “Send word when you want me to come.”
Andrei nodded silently, and Aron clasped Radu’s hand. Then there was no one between Radu and the room that held Mehmed.
“Ah, Radu!” Mehmed stood when Radu entered, embracing him. Radu noted that they were alone. No stool bearer, no guards.
“What can I do for you, my sultan?”
Mehmed drew back, frowning. “Your sultan? Is that all I am to you?”
Radu passed a hand over his eyes. “I do not know. Forgive me, Mehmed. I am tired, and I have been pretending for so long, I can no longer remember what I am supposed to be and whom I am supposed to be it for.”
Mehmed took Radu’s hand and led him to sit in his own chair. “Well, that is part of what we are doing today. I know who you are, and you need a new title to reflect it. How do you feel about Radu Pasha?” Mehmed grinned. He was making it official that Radu was someone important in the empire.
Before he could think better of it, Radu answered, “I thought I was known as Radu the Handsome.”
In the shadow that passed over Mehmed’s face and the way he immediately looked away, it was confirmed. Mehmed had known about the rumors. He had known, and he had said nothing to Radu.
“Is that why you sent me away? To kill the whispers about us?”
“No! I never sent you away. You were always close to me. Every day I looked at the city and trained my thoughts on you, wishing you well and worrying for you. I am so sorry that your time in the city was terrible. Soon it will be as a dream.”
“It was not all terrible,” Radu said. Something in the way Mehmed’s expression shifted to deliberate casualness made his next question anything but innocent.
“The ambassador, you mean? He quite liked you. I could see it at Edirne.”
Radu realized with a sickening lurch of his stomach that Mehmed was dancing around a question, trying to determine whether or not Radu cared for Cyprian in the same way. Which meant that Mehmed knew Radu had the feelings for men that he was supposed to have for women.
Which meant Mehmed could not possibly be unaware of the feelings Radu had nurtured for him all these years.
Shame welled up in him, but a new feeling came, too. Radu felt … used. If Mehmed had known all this time, but had never acknowledged it, not even to gently tell Radu it was impossible … Nazira had said Mehmed would never fail to pursue an advantage. And having a friend so deeply in love with him that the friend would do anything in his service was certainly useful to any leader.
But even now, as angry and hurt as he was, Radu could not look on Mehmed’s face without love. He was still Mehmed, Radu’s Mehmed, his oldest friend. And in spite of everything, Radu would not give him up. Radu had made his choice. He had chosen to save Mehmed at the expense of an entire city.
Mehmed smiled, and it was the sun. Nazira was right. Mehmed was both more and less than a man. He was the greatest leader of generations, he was brilliant, he was a man other men would follow to their deaths.
And because of that, just like Constantine, he was a man who would leave death in his wake as he built greatness around himself.
“I have a surprise for you,” Mehmed said, his eyes dancing.
Radu had one last dark spike of hope that finally, finally he could have what he wanted. They were reunited. The city was Mehmed’s, and Radu had given it to him. They both knew how Radu felt. Maybe if Radu could have Mehmed, he could forget everything it took to get there. The same way Mehmed could forget what it took to get Constantinople, now that he had it.
Radu leaned forward. Mehmed turned, clapping his hands together. A guard opened the door. “Bring him in!” Mehmed said, his tone and expression gleeful.
Halil Vizier entered the room, the hems of his robes betraying the trembling of his knees. He bowed deeply. “How can I serve you, my sultan?”
“Not merely sultan anymore. Caesar of Rome. Emperor. The Hand of God on Earth.”
Halil bowed deeper. “All this and more is your right.”
Mehmed winked at Radu, then began pacing in circles around Halil, prowling like a cat. “You asked how you can serve me. I have an idea. I would like a member of your family for my harem.”
Halil straightened, swallowing so hard Radu heard it. Even now Radu could see the wheels turning in the man’s head. He nodded eagerly. “I have two daughters, both lovely, and—”
“No,” Mehmed said, holding up a hand. “Not that harem. The other one.”
Halil turned pale. “I do not understand.”
“Yes, you do. My other harem. The one you were so fond of telling people I had. The one that would ask for sons instead of daughters. I heard all about that harem. Didn’t you, too, Radu?”