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.”
Ilyas sighed, pulled out a dagger, and slid it into Lada’s side.
“THE JANISSARIES ARE REVOLTING?” Radu asked, shock robbing him of coherent thought.
“It would seem so.” Lazar’s voice was bright, his eyes darting to the locked door between them and Mehmed.
“But we are raising their pay!”
Lazar raised an eyebrow. “We?”
Radu shook his head. “Mehmed. He met with Kazanci Dogan before Murad died. It was all arranged.” It made no sense for the Janissaries to revolt now. They were being paid more than ever before. What had Radu missed? How had he failed to anticipate this move by Halil Pasha?