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They made as little noise as possible, which was no small feat when one hundred men and ten small cannons made their way up the side of a mountain with no path. But Radu had been right about the location. A flicker of candle on Lada’s peak guided them. On their side was a flat patch of rocky meadow about twenty feet above the fortress opposite them. From there they had a perfect vantage point—and point of attack.
Launching a siege against the fortress would be nearly impossible. Lada had made certain of that. It was as though the fortress had sprung from the very rocks of the peak, growing up around her.
Maybe it had. Maybe Wallachia loved his sister as much as she loved it.
But she made the same mistake everyone who went against Mehmed did. Because it did not matter how clever they were. Mehmed had the money, the men, and the weaponry to be cleverer. All they had to do was sit here, safe behind the cover of rock and trees, and fire cannonball after cannonball at his sister’s fortress. Ten years ago, this attack would have been impossible. But Lada had not been at Constantinople. Had not seen an artillery designed by the deadly genius of Urbana.
A dozen men were making the trip back down to bring up even more cannonballs and gunpowder. Radu had several hundred more who would set up a position at the base of the peak once the bombardment began and the element of surprise was past.
Eventually the fortress would fall. Lada’s men could not run without being picked off—just as Radu’s men could not have attacked on foot without being picked off. The fortress’s strengths were also its greatest weaknesses.
Just like the girl who built it.
“We watch and wait. We need to be certain she is there,” Radu whispered. But he knew. Just as he had felt that she was not dead, he could feel her, heavier and darker than the night. She was there.
His men dispersed silently into the trees, the cannons covered with foliage so nothing could be seen. Radu lay on his stomach, only his head peering over the side of a large boulder on the edge of his mountain. Beneath him, only darkness.
Cyprian joined him, and they waited to see what the dawn would reveal.
“If she is there,” Cyprian said, but then he paused, shifting to lie on his back and look straight up. Radu imitated him. In the silence and the night it was easy to pretend it was only the two of them. That they were not surrounded by men and machines made for killing. That his sister was not asleep only a small chasm away.
That last fact was harder to ignore. Lada was stubborn that way, always claiming space that did not belong to her, whether in reality or in Radu’s mind.
“If she is there,” Cyprian began again, “what will you do?”
“What I have to.”
“And what do you have to do?”
Radu closed his eyes, the blackness behind his lids offering no more comfort than the night. “What she would do. What Mehmed would do. I have tried so hard to escape this, but my path was always leading here. I took every turn I could. I found faith and God. I found a new home and country, even new tongues and a new name. But I cannot escape becoming a Dracul. The cruelty, the willingness to destroy everything else in pursuit of a goal. I know what she would do. I know what I need to do. But I do not want to do it.”
Radu felt Cyprian’s long fingers reach for his, felt them link together. Felt the way they fit as though they were always meant for each other.
Cyprian lifted Radu’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “Lada and Mehmed can only move forward. They have one path and cannot branch from it. But you underestimate yourself. You are not your sister, nor should you be. You have always had strengths she did not. If you want to go back down this mountain tonight and leave Wallachia forever, I will be at your side. And if you decide that killing your sister is the right decision, I will be at your side. But do not do something because she would, or because Mehmed would.”
“But they were capable of greatness. Destined for it, even.”
“Then do not aim for greatness. Aim for goodness. And however you get there will be the right path for you, my sweet Radu.”
Radu felt warm tears track down his face. How could he find good in all of this? “She will never stop. She cannot. I cannot think of any way to save her and Wallachia.”
“You survived a cruel childhood. You built a safe space for your heart and your soul. You navigated an enemy court and made it your own. You rose to power when you should have been a captive. You made friends with the most powerful man of our age. You went into an enemy city and helped turn the tide for your people—and managed to show tremendous mercy at the same time. If anyone can figure out a way, Radu, it is you.”
* * *
At dawn, Radu prayed.
There were men in the fortress. They were small and insignificant from this distance, milling idly about. They had no idea they were being watched.
Radu had been right, had known they would find her here. Lada walked out onto the fortress wall and leaned over the edge. At her side was Bogdan. Though the distance was great, Radu would recognize that block of a man anywhere. He recognized none of the other men, a few of whom stood with Lada and Bogdan.
Bogdan tried to take Lada’s hands, but she batted his away.
Radu knelt and reached for a longbow. Nocking an arrow onto the string, he breathed out, looking down the length of the shaft to his sister. He had always been a better shot than she was. It was the only physical thing he could beat her at.
Everything else about her had always been stronger. Including her heart.
Radu would break it. He took a deep breath, and aimed.
