No one answered.

The horses moved forward, a cart loaded with supplies in the middle of the party and Janissaries surrounding them. Radu looked over his shoulder to see Mircea standing with a torch, watching them leave. Staying behind. Smiling.

Radu shivered. He had not been frightened until he saw the look of triumph on Mircea’s face. Nothing that made his older brother look that happy could be good.

As his wariness abated, Radu dozed on and off in his saddle, startling awake several times when he nearly slid off. One of the times a hand steadied him, and he found Lazar next to him, holding the reins of Radu’s horse and his own. Comforted, Radu snuggled deeper into his cloak and was lost to the lullaby of hooves and the whisper of leather.

They made camp well after the sun had risen. Their party was small. Several Janissaries, a few servants, a driver for the supply cart, Lada, and their father.

Radu rubbed his sore neck, then realized with a start that his nurse was not with them.

“Lada!” He tugged on her sleeve, interrupting her ferocious attempt to braid her hair. “They forgot Nurse!”

She glared at him, eyes red and tight with exhaustion. She watched the camp around them warily, tracking the movements of the soldiers. “She is not coming.”

Radu swallowed hard against the painful lump in his throat. He had never been a day without his nurse. Here with his father, but not his nurse? He had the same sensation as when he had been out on the ice and felt it shifting beneath him, threatening to plunge him into frozen terror. “But how long will we be gone?”

Lada strode past him, ripping her bundle of possessions out of Lazar’s arms. “That is mine,” she snapped. “Never touch my things.” She turned on her heel and stalked away, toward their father’s tent.

Lazar made an exaggerated bow, then winked at Radu. “Charming girl, your sister.”

Radu’s mouth formed a smile for the first time all day. “You should see her when she has had enough sleep.”

“Is she nicer?”

“Oh no, far worse.”

Lazar’s laugh made Radu feel lighter. Lazar motioned for him to follow, and he did, helping the Janissaries unload and set up their spare, efficient camp.

They traveled this way for more days than Radu thought to count. At first he worried about what his father would think of how he spent his time, but his father never so much as spoke to him or Lada. He wore his worry in the gloom of his brow, wrapped around him tighter than his cloak. He muttered, practicing some sort of speech, waving away anyone who got too close.

So Radu was free to ride with the Janissaries. He loved the constant jokes, the exaggerated stories, the calm and easy way they rode, as though they were not fleeing—which Radu suspected was the case, though no one would tell him—but rather on an adventure.

“Your sister rides like a man,” one of the soldiers—a quiet Bulgarian with an old scar cutting across his chin—said one day as they passed through a rocky valley.

Radu shrugged. “They tried to teach her to ride like the ladies, but she refused.”

“I could teach her to ride like a lady,” the Bulgarian said, something in his tone different. A few of the other Janissaries laughed, and Radu shifted uncomfortably, certain he had missed something, but unsure what.

“Too young,” Lazar said dismissively.

“Too ugly,” another soldier added.

Radu glared, but he could not tell who had said it. He watched his sister ride tall and proud and alone. “She could beat any of you.” The soldiers laughed, and he scowled. “I mean it. Any one of you.”

“She is a girl,” the Bulgarian said, as though that were the end of any discussion.

“Shhh.” Lazar shook his head. “I think no one has told her this. We would not want her to hear it from us.” He grinned at Radu, bringing him in on the joke, and Radu smiled, though it was not as easy as his smiles for the Janissaries usually were.

After that, Radu spent more time riding beside Lada. She pretended not to notice, but she held her shoulders a little more loosely when he was next to her. Her hands drifted frequently to a small leather pouch, tied around her neck and tucked under her collar. Radu wondered what was in it, but he knew better than to ask.

They were going south, through Bulgaria, studiously avoiding any cities as they picked their way across valleys and over steep terrain. Radu had gleaned enough to know that they were heading for the Ottoman capital of Edirne. The closer they got, the further into his cloak their father retreated. He spoke only when he had to, casting heavy, worried looks at Lada and Radu over the evening fire.