Mehmed shook his head, taking her hands in his. “This is not for you to worry about. I want you to concentrate on getting well.”

She continued as though he had not spoken. “We can do nothing about Orhan for now, but there is the matter of little Ahmet, your half brother. He is a threat that must be addressed.”

Mehmed shifted away from her. “I will make arrangements to send him to an estate in the country, where he will be safe.”

Huma coughed, the sound rattling between her shrunken breasts. “Safe? You want to keep your closest rival for the throne safe?”

“He is an infant.”

“He will not always be one. Think of your father, the years he wasted fighting his own brothers. They nearly pulled the empire apart. We cannot allow the same thing to happen with you and Ahmet!”

Mehmed dropped her hands and stood, glowering. “This is not a matter of we, Mother. I am well aware of the perils of the future. I will keep Ahmet safe—safely away from here, safely out of the reach of any who would use him against me, safely separated from poor Halima his mother, or anyone who would put his interests above my own. He will grow up a prisoner. Forgive me if I do not wish to dwell on it.”

Huma’s expression matched his in ferocity, and it struck Lada how alike they looked. There was an intensity to their faces, something about their eyes that pierced whatever they set their sights on.

Then Huma collapsed into herself, giving in to her illness and exhaustion. “At least tell me you have a plan for Halima. Put her to good use.”

Mehmed rubbed the space between his eyes. “Yes, yes. I am meeting with her soon. I think I will marry her to Ishak Pasha. I am sending him to Anatolia to be the new beylerbey. I want Ishak away from Halil. They are too strong together.”

“Yes, that is wise. Though I still think Halil would better serve you from the top of a stake.” Huma stood, holding out an arm. The eunuch who had escorted her hurried to her side. “And you are wrong about how to deal with the baby Ahmet. But you must do what you think is best.”

“I will.”

After she was gone, Mehmed sighed. “It is hard, seeing her so weak.”

“I think she has never been weak. She frightens me as much as she ever did. And…she has a point.” Lada’s mouth curled down; she hated to agree with Huma. She even felt sorry for Halima. “If Constantinople is leveraging a distant cousin against you, imagine what they could do with access to Murad’s other son. Halil will try to use him.”

“I will keep him away from Halil. And by the time Ahmet is old enough to be useful, we should be done with that wretched pasha.”

“Vizier,” Lada corrected Mehmed, and he stuck out his tongue. “It was Radu’s idea, remember. If you had listened to me, Halil would be dead.”

“I know, I know. But we have to think further ahead. We are building a foundation. Each stone must be considered. We have to dismantle the wall Halil has built before removing him. Otherwise more stones would fill in the gap, and the wall would still be in my way. Radu is right about that.”

“And what does wise, clever Radu think about Ahmet? Is he a stone, or a weakness that threatens the whole building?”

Mehmed did not answer.

THE ROYAL CLERK’S INK-STAINED fingers drummed nervously on his legs. His voice was halting and garbled, as though unused to speaking. “You want to see the tax records?”

Mehmed’s face was a mask of patience. “Yes. I want to see accountings for the tax revenues.”

Radu pitied the clerk, whose brow was beaded with sweat. He suspected the man had never before been called in front of a sultan.

“Which taxes?”

Mehmed did not smile. “All of them.”

“All—all of them?”

“All of them. I want to trace every coin that comes into the treasury, and every coin that leaves it. I want to see what every state and city is making, who is in charge, how they are spending my gold, and what there is to show for it. Wages. Allowances. Payments to foreign countries. Payments made by vassal states.”

“But—it will be weeks before I can gather enough information for us to go through, and it would be a massive undertaking.”

“Then you had better start. Now.”

The man scurried from the room as though Mehmed’s declaration were whipping his heels. Mehmed sighed, rubbing his forehead. “We have lost so much time. It will take me months, years perhaps, to get everything in order. When I think of how far I could be if my father had not taken back the throne, if I had not been banished again to Amasya…”