In the center of the square, a massive bonfire greedily reached toward the sky, sparks dancing up through the smoke. Lada wondered if she had missed some sort of festival.
And then she saw what was feeding the fire. And who.
Janissaries ran wild, ripping apart vendor stalls with their bare hands, tossing everything into the flames. They were grouped around the side streets, blocking them. Lada climbed the side of the building next to her, Bogdan steadying her. She could see several other fires starting, all along streets leading toward the city outskirts.
“They are moving away from the palace.” She jumped down. “How did this happen?”
Bogdan shrugged. “Revolt. There have been rumbles about it since Murad died.”
“But Mehmed is going to raise the pay! He and Kazanci Dogan made an agreement before he became sultan.”
“I heard nothing of a raise. If they negotiated one, no one told any of the men here.”
Lada wondered now who Bogdan had become in the time they were apart. He betrayed no emotion, though. She slammed her fist into the wall. “Kazanci Dogan betrayed us. He could not keep Mehmed from the throne, but he played both sides.”
“So they burn some buildings, maybe scuffle in the streets with spahis.” Nicolae’s eyes glowed as they stared at the fire. “Mehmed will raise their pay, and it will all be settled.”
“It makes no sense.” Lada watched as the fires spread, still moving away from the palace. What did Kazanci Dogan stand to gain by letting his men revolt? He already knew Mehmed would raise the pay. Maybe he was trying to get it even higher, but…
“The fires,” she said, her heart racing. “They are drawing soldiers to fight them.”
“Yes.” Nicolae drew the word out as though speaking to a child. “Fires do need to be put out, lest the whole city burn.”
“Play ‘Kill the Sultan’ with me, Nicolae. Think. The fires are moving away from the palace. The soldiers are moving away from the palace. All eyes are moving away from the palace.”
Understanding tugged the scar between Nicolae’s eyebrows flat. “They are going to kill Mehmed.”
“Petru and Matei are there tonight. I do not know the other men well. They could be part of it. We have to get to Mehmed.”
“Streets are blocked,” Bogdan said. If he had an opinion on which side they should be supporting, he did not show it. But he was right. Each street leading back to the palace was filled in by rebel Janissaries.
“I only have knives.” Lada looked hopefully at Nicolae, but he shrugged, holding out his empty hands. “You have nothing?”
“Not all of us sleep armed, Lada.”
“How are we going to get through the men?”
Bogdan walked over to a stall that had been partially dismantled. A couple of rebel Janissaries were there, but they saw his cap and nodded, whooping loudly. Bogdan reached through the stall to the heavy wooden door of the building it abutted. He opened the door, grabbed the top, and wrenched the entire thing from its hinges.
“I think he is a very different type of Wallachian than I am,” Nicolae noted.
Bogdan turned the door sideways, holding the latch like a handle. Lada laughed in understanding, getting behind the door next to Bogdan. Nicolae joined them.
With a roar louder than the fire, Bogdan ran forward. Lada pushed against the door, matching his pace. Wishing she could see the soldiers’ faces, she still felt the impact as they slammed into the men who failed to dive out of the way fast enough. Nicolae tripped, rolling and coming back up with a sword in his hand. Bogdan never slowed. He cleared their way with the crack of wood meeting bones with crushing force.
Lada looked over her shoulder to see two men pursuing them. She threw one of her knives and it was met with a wet thud and a scream. Stopping abruptly, she somersaulted beneath the second man’s sword and grabbed the first man’s from his slack fingers.
The clang of metal on metal jarred her to her core. She bared her teeth in a smile as she screamed, throwing herself at her attacker. He went for her head, and she dropped to her knees. A hot spray of blood confirmed her slash against his hamstrings.
No time to finish him. She sprinted to catch up to Bogdan and Nicolae. They had become mired in a mix of terrified civilians and a mass of Janissaries. The Janissaries were shouting, obviously confused about what was going on and not aware of the revolt.
Bogdan threw the door aside, shoving through to get Lada clear.
“Revolt that way!” Lada shouted, pointing. “Glory and honor if you protect the sultan by my side this way!”
Finally clear of the melee, she sprinted. She did not bother to look if her rallying cry had gathered any men to her side. But the footfalls around her were far more than just Bogdan’s and Nicolae’s.
The gates of the palace gaped, open and unmanned. “Trust no one!” Lada shouted. “Janissaries or otherwise! Disarm everyone, secure all the doors.” The dozen men with her entered the main door, swords at the ready.
She ran for a side entrance used by kitchen servants. Kicking the door open, she braced for a fight, but found none. She wound past the kitchen and up a flight of stairs hidden behind a dusty, worthless tapestry. Nicolae and Bogdan stayed close on her heels.
“How do you know about this?” Nicolae asked.
“It leads directly to the sultan’s chambers.”
Lada did not have time to be embarrassed about the revelation of her intimate knowledge of secret passageways to Mehmed’s bed. This one was used by the kitchen staff so there was no chance of someone accessing his food between when it was sampled for poison and when it was delivered. Lada had used it to sneak down and steal food when they had stayed up late into the night talking…and not talking.
The hall was eerily silent behind the thick stone walls that sealed them off from whatever was happening elsewhere in the palace. Lada could scarcely breathe, images of what would await her at the end flashing before her eyes.
Mehmed dying.
Mehmed dead.
Mehmed’s purple robes soaked in darkest red.
Mehmed’s black eyes gone permanently dark.
Lada knew no one would ever look at her the way he had. If she lost that…
“Either they are already in the room and we are too late,” she said, gasping for breath, “or they have not yet reached his apartments and we can still stop them. Here.” She shoved open a secret door that led to the grand hall outside Mehmed’s apartments. “Secure his door!” She did not wait for Nicolae or Bogdan to agree before ducking back into the hallway and running for the entrance to Mehmed’s rooms. If he was dead, she had to know. She had to make them pay. She slammed her shoulder into a door hidden behind a tapestry in one of Mehmed’s sitting rooms. Then she ran through, ripping the tapestry free from its hanging rod.
Mehmed stood, mouth open in shock.
Radu was barely visible in the next room, a tall, lean Janissary’s hand on his arm and the man’s mouth next to his ear. No one was panicking, no one was dead.
And Ilyas, not Kazanci Dogan, was standing beside Mehmed.
Lada slumped against the wall, relief robbing her of the fire that had chased her here. Other than the door that connected them to the hall containing Radu and the Janissary, the only other entrances to the sitting room were the one she had come through and the balcony. They would need to move to a more secure location. She closed the hidden door, barring it with the tapestry rod.
“What is this about?” Mehmed asked, incredulous.
“Revolt. Janissaries. I thought—I feared it was a distraction. That they were trying to assassinate you.”
“God’s wounds,” Ilyas said, but he did not sound shocked. He sounded tired. He walked over and nodded to the Janissary with Radu before closing and locking the heavy door to the sitting room.
Lada crossed over to it, shaking her head. “We should move to a more defensible room. One without a balcony. Someone could climb in, or jump over from Mehmed’s bedroom balcony.”