And I Darken (The Conquerors Saga #1) - Kiersten White Page 0,34

did not know what to make of this new development, but he dared to nurture that seed of hope sprouting inside him. The smile that met Mehmed’s did not, for once, feel false.

Amasya, Ottoman Empire

ANOTHER CITY, ANOTHER TUTOR. Lada’s life seemed an endless parade of droning men pushing information between her ears. It could be worse, though. It could be an endless parade of droning women. Halima painting the world in cheerful tones while Mara loomed over her, insisting she accept her fate. Embroidery in place of history, courtliness in place of languages. But at least if she was learning embroidery with Halima, she would have needles to stab out Molla Gurani’s eyes.

Molla Gurani, Mehmed’s lifeless teacher, either did not realize or did not care that Lada spent much of her time idly dreaming of smashing his spectacles into his face. She suspected that if he did know, it would not change his expression one bit. He was a man without passions. This meant he did not beat Lada for disobedience. Thankfully, he also did not beat Radu on her behalf. Her relief was tempered by the knowledge that they would find something else to hurt her with. They always did.

During their first lesson, as Radu had feverishly scrambled to keep up and Mehmed had recited whole sections of the Koran, Lada spoke only in Wallachian. Molla Gurani had merely gazed at her, impassive behind those hated lenses, and informed her that his sole duty was to educate Mehmed.

And, he had added in a disinterested tone, I do not think women capable of much learning. It is to do with the shape of their heads.

Lada excelled after that. She memorized more sections of the Koran than either of the boys, and intoned them in a mocking imitation of Molla Gurani. She completed every theorem and practice of mathematic and algebraic problems. She knew the history of the Ottoman state and Mehmed’s line of descent as well as Mehmed himself. Mehmed was nearly thirteen, born between Lada and Radu. He was a third son, his mother a slave concubine, and his father favored the eldest two sons, which subjected Mehmed to gossip and shame. It was dreary knowledge, and Lada worked hard not to relate to or pity Mehmed.

But above all, more than any other subject, she devoured lessons on past battles, historical alliances, and border disputes.

For a while she had feared that Molla Gurani had meant to trick her into studiousness with his challenge, but he remained as impassive as ever, showing no pleasure in her attentiveness, never rising to her baiting. It did, however, greatly chagrin Mehmed whenever she surpassed him. That became her new goal.

Every day she waited for a beating, for some new horror to be visited on her and Radu, for the real reason they had been brought to Amasya to be revealed. The suspense made her quiet and sullen. Radu, meanwhile, gained back some of the weight he had lost. Lada no longer heard him crying at night. She hated seeing him grow comfortable. It would make whatever lesson was coming for them that much worse.

After all, Mehmed was the son of Murad. He was not their friend. He was their captor.

After their main studies, Molla Gurani always spoke with Mehmed about nothing but the Prophet and the destiny of the Ottomans to overthrow Byzantium and Constantinople once and for all. Lada soured at the notion that a mysterious god hovered above everyone, singling out a sultan to spread the Muslim religion to the world. She had never seen such a god, nor any evidence of him. The Ottomans were successful because they were organized, because they were wealthy, and because they were many.

Most afternoons, tired of studying and drained from being constantly on guard against whatever new devilry the sultan had planned for them, Lada wandered away, leaving Radu to nod and agree and fetch things like a puppy for his masters. Amasya was no Wallachia, but it was closer to it than Edirne had been. The city was built into the rocky hills, with a ponderous green river curving lazily along its base. Many of the buildings, including the keep where Lada and Radu stayed, were built into the side of the mountain itself. Behind the keep, growing up the hill in tangled, dense orchards, were apple trees.

Lada amused herself by lying on her back, throwing a knife straight up to try to snag an apple. Sometimes she did. Sometimes the knife came