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Radu had been wrong. There were no good men in this city.
And there were no good men outside of it, either.
LADA EMERGED FROM HER tent to find her fire already lit and a pot of water boiling. She had forced Oana to stay behind to help run their base at Toma’s estate, in part because she trusted Oana to do it well, and in part because she did not want anyone fussing over her wretched hair. Since then, Lada had not woken to a fire.
“What are you doing?” Lada asked Daciana.
Daciana pointed to the pot. “Your options are weak pine tea or weak pine tea. You really need better provisions.”
“You know what I meant.” Lada sat, taking a cup of blisteringly hot pine tea. It was weak, as promised. “I am not riding through the country, charitably adopting all those who want to join my merry band. I am taking men who can fight. Besides, it is important that the land be tended to.”
“Why do you care so much about the land?”
“Because it is mine. I have no desire to be prince of a country with no crops. People need to eat.”
Daciana laughed. “You will be prince, then?”
Lada did not share her mirth. “There is no other title. I will be vaivode, prince of Wallachia. And I will make the land into the country my people deserve.”
Daciana eased herself down, moving awkwardly with her swollen belly. “Very well, then. You take the men for soldiers and you leave the women to plant so that we do not all starve. And what will you do with the boyars?”
As though summoned, a letter from Toma Basarab was delivered at that moment by a smooth-faced boy.
Lada read the letter with a scowl. Nicolae sat next to her, trying to read over her shoulder. “What does he say?”
“He disagrees with my negotiating tactics.” Her temper bubbled hotter than the tea. “And he says he is joining us to make certain I do not negotiate like that with any more boyars.”
She threw the letter to the ground, standing and pacing. “Who is he to tell me what to do? You saw Silviu! You saw his land, what he was doing. Was I not right?”
Nicolae read over the letter with a resigned expression. “I am not saying you were not right. But…perhaps more thought and care should be taken with future boyars.”
“Why?” Daciana said.
“We need them.”
Lada snorted. “We need them? No one needs them. They are maggots, feeding on my land and doing nothing for it!”
Nicolae wore a long-suffering expression. “They are necessary for organization. They collect taxes. They run the farmlands. They muster troops from the men living in their provinces.”
Lada leaned forward. “Tell me, Nicolae. Does it look like they are doing a good job?”
Nicolae smiled. “The roads are impassable with thieves. The fields are fallow or untended. The boyars are fat and wealthy while the people starve. The prince has no military support unless they decide to give it—which they never do. But the fact remains, that is how the country runs. Figure out how to use them better. Control them better. But you cannot get to the throne without them.”
Lada sat in disgust. “Why not?”
“You are already using Toma Basarab. Trust that he knows what he is doing.”
“I do not trust him at all.”
Nicolae rubbed his scar. “Did you think he could just hand you the throne? You need allies. You need the boyars. You cannot skip past them, and to get them, you need him.” Nicolae put an arm around Lada, drawing her close. “Make a deal with the devil until you are both over the bridge.”
“Am I the devil, or are they?”
Nicolae laughed again, but he did not answer.
Bogdan sat on Lada’s other side. His eyes lingered on Nicolae’s arm around her shoulder. He offered her the inside of his bread. It was the softest part, her favorite. He took the crusts without expecting thanks. He simply did it, as he did everything for her. As he always had.
It sparked an idea.
