And I Darken

Nicolae got past his reverence, grinning at her. “Well, are you ready, Lada Dragwlya, daughter of the dragon?”

Fire burned in her heart, and her wounded soul spread out, casting a shadow like wings across her country. This was hers. Not because of her father. Not because of Mehmed. Because the land itself had claimed her as its own.

“Not Dragwlya,” she said. “Lada Dracul. I am no longer the daughter of the dragon.” She lifted her chin, sights set on the horizon. “I am the dragon.”

“I want Wallachia.”

“What?”

“Make me vaivode.”

Mehmed frowned. “But that is the title for a prince.”

“Make me prince, then. You know I am capable. Send me with my Janissary troops, give me the backing of the empire.”

I did not choose to come here, Mehmed. I was held against my will.”

“But now I am asking you! Choose to stay! Choose me.”

Mehmed leaned back and stretched, long and feline. “He does not want to take the position of vaivode. There is another way to strengthen the alliance with Wallachia.”

No! Lada had been hoping Mehmed was not in contact with the Danesti family. If they had already agreed to work with him, her position would be irreparably weakened. “You cannot trust the Danesti boyars.”

“The Danesti line? No, I am going to ally myself with the Draculesti family.”

Lada bit back a growl of frustration. “With Mircea dead, that leaves only Radu to take the throne.”

“He is not the only Draculesti.” Mehmed’s mouth curled around a smile fighting to break free. “And thrones are not the only way to secure alliances.”

“What—” Understanding slammed into her, stealing her breath. “No.”

Mehmed stood, walking around the table to stand in front of her. He cupped her chin, lifting her face to his. “Marry me, Lada. It is the perfect solution.”

she would stay for Mehmed. She would stay for the way she felt when his mouth or eyes were on her. And she would stay for the power it gave her.

His lips found hers, and she kissed him back with a determined ferocity. She touched him everywhere, his face, his hair, his shoulders, his hands, because he was here, and he was alive, and it was the first time that a man she loved had come back for her. She did not have to lose the life she had built here, the threads of safety and power she had. She had not lost him.

“Say you are mine.” He trailed his lips down her neck. She arched into him, digging her fingers into his back.

“I am yours,” she whispered. The words cut like knives, barely out of her mouth before he stole them, sealing them with his own lips.

My absence would not be mourned.”

“I would mourn it. Every moment of every day.”

“Did you?”

Mehmed’s eyes were heavy with longing. “I did.”

She turned away. “I was going to leave.”

He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. “I forbid it.”

“You can forbid me nothing.” But it sounded hollow and forced when she said it. She had spent the last week knowing exactly her value without him. It was a stolen horse, a single loyal friend, and a bleak and difficult future.

He moved from her hair to her ear, trailing his lips along it. Her body responded despite her resolve to be angry, to punish him.

He still wanted her. And she knew now what a fleeting and precious thing it was for a woman to be wanted in any way that made her important.

“You died!” She pushed him away, staring at his face. He was changed, but it was him. Alive. Healthy.

“Did I? That is disappointing. I was very much looking forward to being alive for our reunion. Though I feared you would kill me.”

“The devil take you, Mehmed!” she screamed, filled with sorrow poisoned by rage. This was his fault. She had stayed for him, had let him lull her into feeling like she had security, safety, a future. But, as always, she was at the mercy of the men in her life. And, just like her father, Mehmed had abandoned her.

“And where is the devil to take me?”

Lada whirled around, heart racing. Mehmed leaned in the doorway, mirth twisting the new form the siege had carved his weary face into.

He shrugged. “You nearly broke Petru’s arm sparring. And then you missed yesterday’s training entirely. You either fail to respond to what we say, or you snap so sharply it wounds. I am sorry. I thought—I did not realize you were serious.” He shifted on his feet, tugging at his collar. “If you want, I mean, if it is important to you, I—We could try kissing.”

Lada stared at him in disbelief. Then, the strain of the last week being too much, she threw her head back and laughed. It bubbled out of her like a mountain stream from dry rock, cascading from her lips in a cold, unstoppable rush. She laughed so hard she fell to the ground, clutching her stomach, which soon began to ache.

Nicolae nudged her with his foot, scowling. “This is the most offensive rejection to an offer of romance I have ever received. And that is saying something, as I have had many rejections.”

“You idiot,” she gasped. “You tremendous, arrogant ass. You thought I would be so distraught over you?”

He sat beside her. “Yes, right. While I still have some dignity, can you tell me what is really wrong?”

Her own cruel words to Mehmed stung her as she nodded to a waiting Stefan, indicating their latest game had been a success. If Mehmed died, they would have parted with him declaring his love and her answering with cruelty. He would never know how she felt—that he tormented her, that he was a bright star in the black nighttime of her life.

It would be exactly what he deserved, to die without knowing, because he left her behind.

And she would never forgive herself.