Mehmed had entered the square. The soldiers there lifted their swords, cheering and yelling, praising God and Mehmed. Then a boy darted between them, running directly to Mehmed’s horse. Mehmed’s guards drew close, but Mehmed waved them off.

Amal pointed, and Mehmed looked up at Radu. Mehmed smiled, a look of relief and joy lighting his face. Once, Radu would have given anything to have Mehmed look at him that way. Now, Radu had given everything, only to find he was still empty. He sat on the edge of the roof, dangling his legs over the side. Doubtless Amal would have told Mehmed about the heirs, too. Radu could not hide them from Mehmed. He had saved them for nothing. They would meet the same fate as Mehmed’s infant half brother, sacrificed for the security of the future.

Radu should do what he should have done to Constantine. He should get up and swiftly kill them as they slept.

Instead, he hung his head and wept.

Small fires burning throughout the city gave it a cheery glow as, sometime later, the trapdoor opened. Radu did not turn around when Mehmed sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

“I am glad you are here,” Mehmed said.

Radu smiled bitterly. “That makes one of us.”

“The flags in the palace—that was brilliant.”

Radu imagined himself before his time in Constantinople, how that person would have exulted in this moment. How he would have been filled to the brim with joy and pride to be recognized by Mehmed, to be truly seen. To be the more valuable Dracul.

He could not answer.

Mehmed put a hand on Radu’s shoulder. It felt cold. “You turned the tide. You saw exactly what was needed, and you did it. As you always have, my dearest, my truest friend.”

Several men climbed onto the roof behind them, bringing lanterns that cast sharp shadows.

“Where are the heirs?” Mehmed asked, standing and offering Radu a hand.

Radu did not take it. “What will you do with them?”

“Get them off this roof, to start with. It is no place for children.”

Radu looked up at Mehmed, raising an eyebrow. “And down there is?”

Uncertainty turned Mehmed’s expression angry. “Where are they, Radu?”

Radu stood on his own, then crossed the roof to where the boys still slept. Mehmed gestured, and one of the men handed him a bag. He reached in and, to Radu’s immediate relief, pulled out a loaf of bread and a leather canteen. Mehmed knelt in front of the boys, who were now sitting up, blinking against the lantern light.

“Hello.” Mehmed’s voice was gentle as he held out the food. He spoke Greek. “You must be very hungry and thirsty after being up here all day. That was clever and good of you to stay out of the way. You are very smart boys.”

Manuel looked up, finding Radu, his eyebrows drawn tight in concern. John, too, searched Radu’s face. Radu put everything he had left into giving the boys a smile of reassurance. He had no idea whether or not the smile was the most damning lie he had ever told.

John reached out and took the bread, then handed it to Manuel. “Thank you,” he said.

Mehmed sat across from the boys, passing the canteen after taking a small drink himself. “John, is it? And Manuel?”

The boys nodded, still wary.

“I am so glad I have found you. I sent my friend Radu to keep you safe.” Mehmed smiled up at Radu. Radu looked off into the night, unable to play along. “You see, our city is hurting. I need your help. I want to rebuild Constantinople, to make it into the city it was always meant to be. To honor its past and bring it into its glorious future. Will you help me do that?”

John and Manuel looked at each other; then John nodded. Manuel followed his example, his head bobbing with enthusiasm. Mehmed clapped his hands. “Oh, thank you! I am so glad to have you on my side.” He stood, holding out a hand to help them stand. Each boy took his hand in turn, smiling up at their new savior.

Radu knew precisely how they felt. He knew how much they must worship Mehmed now, for coming in the darkness and saving them from it. Radu had been them, many years before. He wished he could accept Mehmed’s hand with the same warm relief again.

Mehmed gave the boys into the care of his guards, promising he would see them again when they had gotten some rest, safe and sound in a real bed. Radu went back to the edge of the roof. Already dawn was approaching. The hours here moved all wrong—some crawling by and lasting days, others slipping like water through his fingers.

Mehmed joined him again.

“Will they really be safe?” Radu asked.

“Why would you ask me that?” Mehmed replied, his tone troubled.

“That was not an answer.”

“Of course they will be safe. I will make them part of my household. They will be given the finest tutors and raised to be part of my empire. This is my city now, and they are part of my city. I never wanted to destroy Constantinople, or anything in it.”

“We cannot always get what we want.”

Side by side but further from Mehmed than he had ever been, Radu watched as the sun rose on the broken city. He shifted to look at Mehmed. Rather than pride, a slow expression of despair crept across Mehmed’s beloved features. What he had sought for so long as the jewel of his empire was finally laid out before him in all its crumbling, dying glory. Even without the looting, the city was devastated, and had been for generations.

Perhaps, looking out over it, Mehmed saw what the beginning of his legacy would eventually lead to. Whatever Mehmed did, whatever he built, the greatest city in the world was irrefutable evidence that all things died.

“I thought this would feel different,” Mehmed said, melancholy shaping his words like a song. He leaned against Radu, finally giving him the contact he had craved for so long.

“So did I,” Radu whispered.

After a single day of looting, rather than the traditional three, Mehmed declared an end. He kicked all the soldiers out of the city, banishing them to the camp to go over their spoils and leave what remained of the city unmolested. The camp itself swelled to accommodate the nearly forty thousand citizens taken captive to be ransomed or sold as slaves.

Most of the churches had been protected by the guards Mehmed sent in, and all the fires that had been set were already extinguished. Mehmed himself had killed a soldier found tearing up the marble tiles of the Hagia Sophia. Then he had brought in his own holy men, and the jewel of the Orthodox religion was gently and respectfully converted into a mosque.

Orhan had died fighting in his tower, as had all the men who attempted to hold out. One other tower had fought so long and so determinedly, though, that Mehmed visited and granted the soldiers there safe passage out of the city.

Two communities within Constantinople survived without harm. One was a fortified city within the city that had negotiated its own terms of surrender; the other, the tiny Jewish sector. Mehmed met with the leaders there and asked them to write to their relatives in Spain and invite all the Jewish refugees to relocate and settle their own quarter of the city. He even offered to help them build new synagogues.

Once the soldiers were back at the camp, word was sent throughout the city that anyone who had not been captured had full amnesty. Whether driven out by hope or starvation or simply exhaustion, slowly the survivors appeared.

Mehmed vowed to build something better, and Radu knew that he would.

He simply could not shake the cost of what it had taken to get there.

In the days that followed, Radu wandered the streets in a daze, listening to Turkish in the place of Greek and finding he missed the latter. Over and over he returned to Cyprian’s house, but he could never bring himself to go inside. It would not be the same. He would never see Cyprian again, and Cyprian certainly would never want to see him again. Not now, not after what he had done.

In a city filled with the dead, where tens of thousands now suffered horrible fates outside its walls, Radu knew it was horrendous to mourn the loss of his relationship with Cyprian. And yet he could not stop.

Kumal found him sitting outside the Hagia Sophia. His old friend ran up to him, embracing him and crying for joy. Then he looked around. “Where is my sister?”

Radu felt dead inside as he answered. “I do not know.”

Kumal sat heavily next to Radu. “Is she …?”