And I Darken (The Conquerors Saga #1) - Kiersten White Page 0,120

letter from Constantinople. What was the name it mentioned? Radu put a hand to his forehead, trying to re-create the words when all he could think of was the kiss he had wanted but not received, and the kiss he had not wanted but gave anyway.

Then it came to him. “Orhan! Does the name Orhan mean anything to you? I saw it in a letter from Constantine to Halil Pasha.”

Mehmed’s eyes tightened. “He is a pretender, allegedly an heir to my throne from another line. We suspect he is not even related, but Constantine has held him against us for years. My father pays a yearly tax for his upkeep so that Constantine does not send him here to stir up trouble. Halil Pasha means to set the city against me and bring in Orhan as sultan. If he can keep things unbalanced enough, he can hold Edirne and trigger a civil war, and keep Constantinople out of harm’s way. I wonder how much they have paid the snake.”

Radu blanched. “So many Ottomans would die. How can he not care what the cost of a civil war would be?”

Lada picked up a dagger from the table. “The solution is simple. We kill Halil tonight; Ilyas arrives with his Janissaries in two or three days, and the city is ours.”

“It is not that simple,” Radu said.

Lada let out a derisive huff, but Mehmed had turned away from her to face Radu. Lada recoiled as though struck, her face darkening.

“Tell me, then,” Mehmed said. “What do you think we should do?”

Radu rejoiced. “I have an idea.”

“I have always thought red was a better color for me than blue,” Nicolae said, his mouth and nose obscured by a veil as he plucked at his flowing skirts.

“We speak of this to no one.” Mehmed’s voice was a growl. If anyone looked too closely at the new concubines, they would doubtless be terrified of the murder they saw in their faces.

Lada said nothing, simply waited for the last of her men to finish scaling the wall and dropping over it into the winter-dimmed gardens of the harem complex. All told, she had brought only four: Matei, Nicolae, Stefan, and Petru. Radu could not get more women’s clothing than that, and the smaller the party, the less likely they were to draw attention. The others left the city to await Ilyas and inform him of the plan.

When everyone was over the wall, Lada pulled the rope back, coiled it, and tucked it beneath her sash. Though Radu did not want to, he could not help seeing the way Mehmed continuously observed her movements.

“They will be watching Huma,” Radu said. He had lied about a meeting with the ailing Huma to get into the harem, but in truth they were not involving her. She was too volatile, too unpredictable, and too obvious a choice. “The shortest distance between here and the palace is the sultan’s chambers. That may be our best entry point.” Radu rubbed his chin, then smiled. “I am well known to be a favorite of Murad’s. Follow me. And try to look like women.”

“How do I do that?” Petru grumbled.

“Watch Lada?” Matei suggested. Fortunately, the snorts of laughter were smothered by the veils, and Lada pretended not to notice. Something in the way her eyes tightened made Radu wonder if perhaps it bothered her, though.

“Short steps,” Lada said. “Make your body curve wherever you can. Shoulders rounded, hips swaying. Walk as though you have nothing between your legs, which should not be a problem for Nicolae or Petru.”

More gruff laughter.

“And perhaps stop laughing or speaking,” Radu said, shaking his head. He strode ahead, walking confidently in front of the procession. When they got to the gated entrance, he nodded at the guard.

The eunuch peered over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows.

“The doctors have suggested we try to arouse Murad’s senses in an attempt to wake him. I thought, well…” Radu gave a sheepish grin, gesturing back at the women.

The eunuch opened the gate, and they filed through. Radu prayed silently that the eunuch would not look too closely at the “women” or their feet. He had been unable to find slippers for them, and their leather boots were hardly standard for women who spent all their lives living in a single building and its surrounding gardens.

The next door was an entrance to Murad’s private apartments, manned by several Janissaries. Sweating profusely beneath his clothes, Radu gave the same explanation with the same knowing-but-embarrassed smile. He