“No!” Lada put her arms behind her back just in case Daciana and Stefan tried to force the baby on her. But Daciana seemed content to hold the baby herself. Lada tentatively smiled. “When she is old enough, I will give her a knife.”

Daciana and Stefan both laughed, and though Lada had been serious, she laughed, too. But watching the tiny life, she promised herself she would do exactly that for this little girl and every other Wallachian under her rule.

She would make them strong.

45

May 28–29

THE LITURGY WAS punctuated by the ceaseless bombardment strikes. Radu wished they could have coordinated with Mehmed somehow, so that the distant sound and vibration of rock meeting stone could have matched up perfectly. As it was, the beats fell too soon or too late, a jarring mess guaranteeing no one could truly lose themselves to the worship service.

But that was never a possibility, anyway. Not tonight.

For the first time since Constantine had attempted to unite the churches, the Hagia Sophia was lit up. All their angry clinging to dogma and notions of religious purity had been abandoned, and they appealed to every icon, every relic, every link to God they had. If the Hagia Sophia could save them, they were finally ready to try it.

Outside the walls, the Ottoman camps were quiet. The bombardment had increased, everything they had left being flung at the city in anticipation of one final burst. Arrows came over the walls with scrawled warnings from sympathetic Christian soldiers:

The end is coming.

But they did not need the information written on arrows. It was already written in the massive stone cannonballs hitting the walls, in the day of rest and prayer Mehmed had given his men. One last assault, one last chance to defend or attack, to stand or fall, to live or die.

And so the people of the city came to church. The Hagia Sophia was packed, claustrophobic; people stood shoulder to shoulder. Radu breathed the same air as everyone around him. They exhaled terror and resignation, and he inhaled it until he could not catch his breath. He much preferred the Hagia Sophia dark, with the sound of birds fluttering near the roof. That had felt closer to worship than this.

Constantine stood at the front, looking upward as though he were already an icon himself. Nearby, Giustiniani stood, pale and sweating. He should have been sitting, but appearances were everything. He had been injured in the bombardment yesterday. The panic that spread through the city at the idea of losing him had been more dangerous than any cannon. And so Giustiniani stood when he should have been resting, prayed when he should have been sleeping, all so the people could see their emperor and their military commander and have some semblance of hope.

When the service ended, no one moved. Radu was desperate to get outside, to be away from all this. A hand tugged on his vest and he whirled around, ready to strike.

He looked down into the eyes of the little heir, Manuel. “Where is my cousin?” Manuel asked. Something in the way his lip trembled but his chin stayed firm stabbed Radu to the core. Manuel was expecting to hear that Cyprian was dead, and he was preparing himself not to cry over the news. Radu dropped into a crouch so he was face to face with the boy.

“Cyprian is resting at home. He was hit on the head with some rocks, but he will get better.”

Manuel let out a breath of relief, grinning to reveal his first few lost teeth. “He promised to take me fishing when the siege is over.”

“Well then, there you have it. He will heal quickly, because he would never break a promise like that.”

Manuel nodded, quick to accept comfort. He slipped his tiny hand into Radu’s hand, anchoring Radu with the weight of his innocence. John and their nurse soon joined them, the older boy solemn and ashen-faced. He nodded to Radu and Radu formally dipped his head.

“You will protect us,” he said. Radu wanted to sink into the ground. John nodded again, and Radu realized the boy was reassuring himself. “The men and the walls will protect us.”

Everyone turned, watching as Constantine, stately and regal, marched out of the church. As the door closed behind him, there was a whoosh of collectively held breaths released, along with wails and cries of despair. People scattered in every direction. Radu overheard snatches of plans to hide, places that might be safe, cisterns underground that no Turk would think to look in. At least they knew the limits of their faith.

Radu grabbed the nurse’s arm as she tried to herd the boys away. “Stay here,” he said.

She scowled in offense. “I am to take the boys back to the palace.”

“If the walls are breached, the palace will be the first place the soldiers go looking for loot.”

She lifted her nose defiantly in the air as though Radu’s dour prediction were foul to smell. “Those filthy Turks cannot come past the columns. The angel of the Lord will descend from heaven and drive them away with a flaming sword.”

Radu held back an exasperated huff, though it cost him dearly. Instead he smiled encouragingly. “Yes, of course. Which is why you should stay here. The Hagia Sophia is farther in the city than the angel will let the Turks get, so you will be safest here.”

She frowned, weighing his words.

“And it will do the boys good to pray more.”

No Byzantine nurse could resist the lure of forcing her charges to pray. She took both boys’ hands and marched back into the center of the Hagia Sophia. Radu wished he could do more. But he knew Mehmed would want the Hagia Sophia intact, and would send soldiers to protect it if and when they breached the walls. It was safer than anywhere else in the city.

He walked out the doors, breathing the evening air with relief. Another little hand tugged on his shirt. He glanced down to see Amal. Taking a coin—his last—he placed it in the boy’s palm. “Tell him to look to the gates at the palace wall. I will—”

“Where is my nephew?”

Radu whirled around. Constantine stared wearily back at him. Radu stammered in surprise and guilt. “He—he—he is resting. I think he will recover, but he is not fit to fight.” He glanced to the side. Amal was gone.

Constantine nodded, something like relief in his eyes. “Take his place at my side, then.”

Radu was swept along with Constantine’s party. Stuck in the middle next to Giustiniani, he was unable to slip free. This was not where he wanted to be tonight. He had planned to position himself at the Circus Gate—a small gate opening into Blachernae Palace. He needed to be there. But there was nothing he could do to get away without looking suspicious. Constantine led them through the city, past the inner wall, and to the masses of soldiers clustered in front of the Lycus River section of the wall. It was here and at the Blachernae Palace section that their final stand would be made. The palace was visible in the distance. Nazira was there, as planned, and he was stuck here.