“Because…,” Nicolae said, dangling the word on a line as though he hoped Lada were a fish that would swallow it and prevent him from having to explain. She did not bite. “Because,” he said, sighing, “the walls are too high, the windows too barred, the doors too guarded. We have strategized this before, Lada, and the conclusion is always wait until he leaves. We cannot get in.”
“You cannot get in,” Lada said. “Stefan, did you recognize the guards on duty?”
He shook his head.
“Good. Then they will not recognize you. I need skirts, an entari, and a veil.”
Petru’s mouth hung open, making him look like the fish Nicolae had hoped to catch. “Skirts? But why?”
Lada motioned for them to follow. “Because a tremendous amount of weaponry can be hidden in skirts, and because Stefan is about to drop off a gift from the sultan.”
Nicolae caught up to her as she made her way swiftly toward the outer building she had been given for her garrison. It was another impediment to Mehmed meeting her—she lived in the makeshift barracks with her men. She was never alone. Because if she was alone, then there was no barrier, no impediment, nothing stopping them from…
He was in the harem.
“Lada,” Nicolae’s voice was low enough that the others could not hear him. “Is this really a good idea? I think we should wait. We can catch him coming out. We have plans for that.”
“And they are good plans, which mean they are obvious plans, which means Ilyas may have already anticipated them. This is a better plan.”
He grabbed her arm. “Lada, stop.”
She wheeled on him, fury blazing, making her feel taller and stronger. “Do not tell me what to do.”
He lifted his hands in the air. “I merely wonder if the harem is the best place for you to be.”
The concern in his expression made her want to tear out her hair. And then strangle him with it. She sneered, “Do you think I do not know what happens in there? Are you worried for my tender sensibilities?”
“No! I would never think any of you tender, I promise.” He grinned, scar puckering. “But I wonder about…your reputation. Women who go into the harem do not come out. It is a permanent position.”
She batted the suggestion out of the air with a wave of her hand. She knew he was trying to say something bigger, and she would not acknowledge it. “I am not going in as a woman. I am going in as an assassin. So we have nothing to fear.”
A few minutes later she was covered from head to toe in leftover finery from Mehmed’s wedding. She had never worn half the clothes prepared for her, but an industrious servant packed them all to be sent back with her. Other than the wrinkled garments that would have had any maidservant beaten, she looked like a woman. And, veiled, she looked nothing like herself.
It was decided that only Stefan should accompany her. Any more guards would look suspicious. So, without fanfare, he brought Lada to the gate of the harem and handed her to the closest eunuch.
“A gift from Mehmed’s mother,” he said.
The eunuch nodded, uninterested, and led Lada straight past the two Janissary guards and into the harem.
She jumped in spite of herself as the door clanged shut. It sounded so formal, so final. Her heart was racing and her breathing shallow and unmeasured as she followed the eunuch down several twisting hallways, trying to memorize them. Everything was bright and clean. Elaborately patterned and gleaming tile beckoned them farther inside.
The eunuch opened a door to a small waiting chamber. “Someone will be with you within the hour to determine your placement and get you situated.” He left her there without another word, closing the door behind him.
He did not lock it.
Not that it would have mattered if he had, but the principle of it made Lada burn with rage. It was only about the door, she told herself. About the eunuch’s utter inability to see a woman as a potential threat.
She took out one of her daggers and stabbed it into the sofa. Tugging it along the length of the sofa, she created a jagged gash. Then she sheathed her dagger and fixed her veil. She stepped out into the hallway. She was perfectly capable of carrying out this mission without letting the fact that she was inside Mehmed’s harem distract her.
Her only guess was to go farther in, so she picked up a large vase with a fragrant bouquet, holding it carefully in front of herself as though she had a purpose. Carrying a bunch of flowers around seemed like a rational occupation in this gilded birdcage.
After passing several closed doors and turning down three separate hallways, Lada was hit with a wave of despair. Mehmed would probably finish with his business here and leave before she ever found him, and then what would she tell her men?