She ran forward and threw herself at him. He did not hesitate, wrapping his arms around her and spinning her in a circle. She buried her face in his neck, unable to believe it was real. Bogdan, her Bogdan, lost to her so long ago.
Alive. Here. Hers.
“Who are you?” Mehmed demanded.
Without putting Lada down, Bogdan answered in a voice deeper than the one she had known, but so very him that it made her feel like a child again. “I am her husband.”
Lada laughed, smacking the back of his head. He lowered her, but she kept a hand on his shoulder. She had to make certain he was real and he was not leaving.
“I hardly think our marriage was binding.” She took his hands in hers, his fingers short and callused. His face had broadened, his features fitting better now that he had grown into them. He was sturdy, strong, exactly how she would have imagined him had she had the heart to let herself.
“Will you please explain?” Mehmed asked. His face was as coldly and precisely arranged as a floor of tiles.
“This is Bogdan. My oldest friend. His mother was my nurse, and we grew up tormenting her and Radu. He was lost to me, so long ago. I thought him lost forever! Oh, Bogdan.” She put a hand on his cheek, the stubble there shocking her and reminding her of all their missed time.
“You have no idea how many Bogdans I had to try before finding the right one,” Nicolae said.
Lada could not restrain her smile. “Thank you.”
“He seems like he will make a good addition to our corps. Big enough to sit on Petru when he gets too annoying.”
“Are you quite finished?” Mehmed raised an eyebrow.
Lada’s smile vanished. What was wrong with him? Why could he not see how happy she was to be reunited with Bogdan? She caught his eyes flicking to where her hand still rested on Bogdan’s shoulder.
She lifted her chin, not letting go. “Bogdan, this is Mehmed, the sultan.”
Bogdan bowed as was appropriate, but there was something in his movements that made the bow look as though it were an afterthought. Something he was going to do anyway, and Mehmed simply happened to be standing in front of it.
Lada pulled his hand. “Come, let me show you—”
“I want you to accompany me to the treasury,” Mehmed said.
“What?”
“There are some accounts I wish to have your thoughts on.”
“But Nicolae was—”
“Nicolae can show—Bogdan, was it?—where the barracks are. Go now.”
“No! They will stay.”
Bogdan stood, impassive, his face betraying nothing. Nicolae’s eyes widened in warning. “Lada,” he mouthed.
She realized she was asking them to directly defy a command from Mehmed. Her Mehmed, yes, but their sultan, their “father.” If they obeyed her, they could be killed for treason. She knew Mehmed would do no such thing, but at the same time, she could not ask Nicolae and Bogdan to defy him for her sake.
“Go,” she said through gritted teeth. “I will meet you later.”
She watched them leave, then walked five steps in front of Mehmed the whole way to the treasury. She was seething.
“Lada,” he said.
She did not turn back or answer.
When they arrived at the treasury, Mehmed was detained by mounds of parchment: tallies and ledgers and contracts. She stood by the door, supposedly scanning for threats but instead spending all her energy glaring at Mehmed’s back.
Finally, the clerks left.
“What is this about?” Lada asked.
“What do you mean?” Mehmed did not look up.
“You dragged me here when you knew I did not want to come. I have not seen Bogdan in years—I thought him dead—and you decided my input on matters of the treasury mattered more?”
“Forgive me if I was taken aback to be introduced to your husband.”
Lada spluttered. “He is not— It was a game between children.” She looked down her nose at him. “Besides, you are certainly in no position to complain about that. How is Sitti Hatun these days?”
Mehmed burst from his chair, hands around her shoulders before she could move. She braced herself, but his face softened and his grip loosened, one hand coming up to cup her face. “I am sorry. I have not seen you that happy in…It surprised me, is all. I did not know how to react. I am glad you found your friend.”
Lada nodded, still wary.
“You should go, speak with him, catch up. Come to my rooms for supper tonight, afterward, and tell me about it.” He smiled, and she did not have time to see whether it was a genuine smile or a smile of the sultan before he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers. The soft insistence of his mouth trapped her, and she answered back with her own.