Radu backed up, aghast. “We have to protect him! I will not let you sacrifice him!” He turned to leave. Lada grabbed his arm but he shook her off, turning the door handle. Lada knocked him to the ground, her knee digging into his back.

“Shut up and listen to me! Something must be sacrificed. That something is Mehmed. We sacrifice Mehmed’s throne now, so that he lives to take it later. If he stays, he will die. We keep him safe until he is older. Smarter. Stronger. When he will come to the throne not as a powerless child but as his precious hand of God on Earth.”

“Do not mock him!”

“We will lose everything, Radu.” Lada’s voice was ragged, and Radu felt a sudden fear that if he could see her face, she would be crying. That terrified him more than anything, the idea of Lada breaking down. The man she had killed, the attack, they were foreign to him. He had not seen them or felt them in any real way. But Lada crying meant the end of his world. If Lada could not be strong, how could he ever hope to be?

She continued. “Mehmed is our only protection. Do you think I want to see him powerless? Without Mehmed in charge, we face execution for our father’s crimes.”

“So we help him! We figure out how to beat Halil Pasha!”

“We would be gambling with Mehmed’s life. The next assassination attempt will not fail.” She leaned heavily on top of him, easing her knee off his back. “Our lives were forfeit the moment Father brought us here. I cannot…” She paused, and her voice got softer. She tangled her fingers in one of his curls, tugging like she used to when they were small, but with no force. “I will not risk Mehmed’s life on the chance that it will work out in our favor.”

“It does not matter. Mehmed will never give up the throne.” If Lada had seen him that day in the baths—seen his joy and his determination—she would understand. Mehmed was the sultan now, with as much passion as he had for everything he set his sights on. Lada moved, her back against the door. Radu joined her, shoulder to shoulder. “If we ask him to abdicate, if we tell him he cannot stay sultan, he will never forgive us. We will lose his friendship and his trust.”

“Then we arrange for the throne to be taken from him. It is that, or his death. The throne and his pride, or his life, Radu.”

Radu thought of his friend, thought of the fire in his heart that was burning ever brighter as he worked to claim his destiny. He thought of it all being taken away in the most humiliating way possible.

He thought of Mehmed’s spark being taken from the world forever.

He leaned his head against the heavy wood of the door. It would break Mehmed. But it would save him. “How do we do it?”

Lada rested her hand where a sword would be sheathed if she were practicing with the Janissaries. “I think I have an idea.”

“You want me to what?” Huma asked. Laughter teased her voice, but there was violence behind her eyes.

“Get the Janissaries to revolt.”

“Why would I do that? It would destabilize the whole city.”

“Exactly.” Lada sat perfectly still and spoke calmly. Radu knew it was taking great effort—he could tell by the way one of Lada’s feet, not quite hidden beneath her skirts, bounced up and down. “They are already primed for revolt. If you can bribe someone high enough up to ignite it, the soldiers will follow. When Mehmed comes to you for advice on how to handle it, tell him to raise their pay.”

Huma frowned. “I know the Janissary commander, Kazanci Dogan. He would do it. But it is a dangerous precedent. That money comes out of taxes we take from very wealthy, important people. They will not be happy about Mehmed caving to the demands of the Janissaries, rather than ruling them.”

“If enough unhappy viziers, pashas, beys, and valis demand Murad come back to the throne, even he will have to listen.”

Huma’s elegant hand cut through the air between them. “No. I will figure out another way. I do not want Murad back. There is only unrest because the Janissaries have another option. If Murad were dead, they would have to accept Mehmed.” She stood, pacing. “With Murad dead, I could be declared regent until Mehmed is older. I would have to get support. I think I could have Kazanci Dogan behind me, but Halil Pasha…” She sat down heavily, all grace gone out of her movements. “No. He would never support me. If anything happened to Murad, Halil Pasha would arrange to be declared regent. And once he has the throne, we will all be dead.”

Lada pointed emphatically. “We need Murad. If he does not come back, Mehmed will die.”