She turned to him and smiled, putting her hand on top of his. “Radu, sweet Radu. When you look at me there is no hunger in your gaze. I have spent a good deal of time observing men and the way they look at women, and you do not look at me as a man looks upon something he desires.”
Fear blossomed, its dark petals spreading wide. “You are very beautiful, and—”
She squeezed his hand, shaking her head. “It is not a hunger I welcome. That is why I picked you. You are kind and smart and you are…alone. And you will, I think, always have to be alone.” She formed it almost as a question, her eyes searching his for a truth he did not want them to find. “Do you remember our dance?”
Radu shook his head.
“At Mehmed’s wedding to Sitti Hatun.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Half the women in the room watched you move, craving your attention, waiting for their turn. And you looked at none of them. I knew then. I understand. I understand what it is to look upon what you are supposed to have and feel nothing.” She waited, then whispered, “I understand.”
Radu realized tears had formed in his eyes. “You do?”
“I do. As your wife, I would expect only your friendship. Nothing more.” She looked at the ground, and a blush spread across her cheeks. “And I would request that my maid, Fatima, be allowed to accompany me. Always.”
“Fatima.” Radu sat back, remembering. The way Nazira’s gaze always followed the maid wherever she went, the day he found them in the gardens, breathless and flushed, their hair askew from being chased by a bee.
A cloud passed from the sun, bathing them in warmth and light. With it came surprising clarity. Radu smiled. “You were happy to have been stung by that bee in the garden. You have found happiness, then.”
She nodded. “I have. Will you—please, will you help me protect it? Will you let me be your friend, your true friend who knows you and loves you?”
Radu leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. He could not help the welling of jealousy that filled him. Nazira had found her happiness and, miraculously, Fatima felt the same. But his bitterness was brushed away by genuine love for Nazira. If she had what he feared he never could, he would do whatever he could to help her.
“Nazira, it would be my greatest honor to be your husband.”
She let out a burst of laughter mingled with a sob of relief and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, sweetest Radu. Thank you.”
He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
When they rejoined Kumal, he took in Nazira’s tear-streaked face with alarm before noticing their clasped hands.
“Brother!” He took them both in his arms. Nazira’s frame trembled as she cried and smiled, and Kumal began making wedding plans.
“We can invite the sultan!” he said.
“No,” Radu said, too quickly and with too much force. Nazira’s eyebrows raised knowingly. Radu nodded his head, a tiny movement only she would catch. She squeezed his hand, and he was surprised by how much comfort it was to be understood.
This time when he spoke, Radu was careful to sound calm and unaffected. “He is burdened so heavily right now. He would feel guilty for being unable to attend. It is best not to invite him. I will ask him for an estate nearby, but out of the city. Closer to you. It will be healthier air for Nazira, and I can travel between her and my duties to the sultan with ease. I would like to marry in a simple ceremony, as soon as possible.”
“That is my wish, too.” Nazira glowed, outshining the sun.
Kumal laughed good-naturedly. “It appears you both know exactly what you want.”
“We do,” Radu said. But only one of them was able to truly have it.
EXHAUSTION PLAGUED LADA, dragging her limbs and mind down. Nicolae was occupied with scouring the Edirne Janissaries for Wallachian recruits to fold into their ranks. Stefan was training the few they had found. And so, with Petru and Matei both ill, Lada had taken a double night watch. Now, finally past dawn, all she could think of was bed.
It had been strange, standing inside Mehmed’s room while he slept. He had pleaded for her to join him in his bed, teased and flirted, but she reminded him that she was all that stood between him and a knife in the dark.
And that if he did not shut up and go to sleep, the knife would belong to her.
Still, there was something discomfiting about the whole experience. It was like watching him during the coronation. He was there, he was Mehmed, but he was so separate from her. Unreachable. His face sleeping was the same as it had been during the ceremony: alien.