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Lada noted with some mean satisfaction that Mehmed’s tone speaking to his concubine was the same he used when addressing any servant. But he clearly felt something for the child. And the concubine had given him that.
The baby’s cries left the room. Lada heard someone stand. She stepped out from behind the screen, still holding the vase.
Mehmed barely glanced at her as he walked straight for the doorway. She threw the vase to the right of his head. He ducked as it shattered against the wall, water and flowers scattered among the sharp shards of glazed pottery.
He looked at her, face red with fury. “What in the name of—”
She ripped off her veil. For a moment his anger stayed frozen in place, then dissolved into a smile. He laughed, shaking his head. “What are you doing here, Lada?”
She closed the door. Hope lit his eyes, and he moved forward.
She twisted out of his reach. “I could have killed you.”
“By all means, kill me.” His smile was anything but concerned as he reached for her. It had been days since they had stolen a private moment.
Not here, she thought. Anywhere but here. “Skanderberg?” she asked, changing the direction of their interaction. Iskander Bey had been one of Murad’s favorite Janissaries, and now he was one of Lada’s favorites. He had been a thorn in the empire’s side for years, using what he had learned from them to keep them at bay.
Lada had studied every account of his fights with the same devotion Mehmed gave to Islam.
Mehmed’s expression closed off. “Yes, my father has declared a new campaign. I will ride with him and command a flank in the siege.”
Lada’s chest welled with excitement. She could prove herself, her men, and…she could go, finally see somewhere else, even if it was not home. “When do we leave?”
Mehmed did not meet her eyes. He leaned down and picked up several of the flowers, carefully avoiding the sharp edges of the broken vase. “I leave this afternoon.”
Lada hurried to the door. “We can be ready within the hour, I—”
Mehmed grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “You are not coming.”
“I— What? We are ready. My men are ready. My force is small in number, but we can scout, and I will—”
“You are staying here!”
Lada peeled off his hand and took a step back. “Why?”
He was suddenly fascinated by the bruised flowers in his hand. “I need to leave someone I trust in charge of the city.”
“Anyone can do that! Nothing of value will be left here!”
Mehmed’s gaze was heavy when it finally found her. “Nothing of value?”
Understanding hit Lada. She ripped the flowers from his hand and threw them to the ground. “I will not stay behind to watch your brat! I am no nursemaid!”
Mehmed blinked rapidly, then shook his head. “Lada, I was not talking about my son. Do you think he is the only thing here I value?”
“Then what?”
“You! I will not take you into battle! You have no idea what the conditions are like, no idea how many ways there are to die.”
“I can handle myself.”
“But what about me? What would I do if something happened to you? I have to keep you safe!”
She pushed his chest, sending him stumbling, vase shards crunching beneath his boots. “I am not something to be kept! Next you will tell me you want to keep me behind walls, keep me in padded, perfumed rooms, keep me here. I am not your concubine, Mehmed!”
“That is not what I am asking!” He threw his hands up, pacing in a circle. “You are precious to me. What is so wrong with wanting to take care of you?”
“If I needed or wanted to be taken care of, I would be no better than the women in here! I am nothing like them.”
