He was more troubled by the soldier’s insinuation. How had he heard of Radu? And what did he mean, that the emperor might have a taste for beautiful boys, too? The implication was that Radu had been the beautiful pet of another man.

He could think of only one man this rumor might be directed at. He tried to shake the thought off, but it lay heavier across his back than his winter cloak.

“Look,” Nazira said, pointing. “Ships.” The road curved and a view of the Bosporus strait opened up. Seven large, beautiful ships were sailing at a brisk clip toward the twin fortresses. Radu wondered where they were going, and envied the sailors’ obvious skill. He had not seen such masterful maneuvering among their own navy. It planted a seed of doubt deep inside.

Cyprian cried out. “No!”

“What? What has happened?” Radu whipped around, certain his lie had been revealed and the gap-toothed soldier was coming for them. But the road was empty. Cyprian looked out at the water.

“Those are Italian ships. They must have hundreds of men aboard. They flee the city.” Cyprian’s shoulders fell, his head hanging heavy. “They abandon us. News of war has outpaced us. Come. We must hurry to console my uncle.”

They spurred their tired horses forward. The wall, so long at the forefront of Mehmed’s mind, and therefore Radu’s, was … anticlimactic. Miles and miles of stone, worn and patched with jumbles of mismatching rocks, cut through farmland. Radu could not fathom how anyone was able to man the wall. It was too long. But it was also too high—easily five times taller than him. Any advance could be seen and met. There was nowhere to hide, no point more vulnerable to attack than any other. And behind the outer wall was another one.

“Stop gaping so,” Nazira said, elbowing him. “You look like a slack-jawed boy from the country.” Her smile was a tight warning. He had been scanning the walls as an invader. He was fortunate Cyprian focused only on the path ahead.

Radu had waited so long to be here, but he had never anticipated being escorted through a gate with a salute from soldiers posted there. Just like that, they were within the outer walls. Radu risked one look back as the gate closed behind them. He did not know when—or if—he would leave again.

He glanced at Nazira, who rode tall and proud on her horse, a hopeful smile pasted onto her face. He copied her confidence. Cyprian was far enough ahead that he dared speak. He leaned closer to her. “How are you so good at this?”

She lifted a hand in the air, gesturing toward herself. “When you spend your whole life learning how to show people only what you want them to see so your truest self remains safe, you become quite adept at it.” She smiled sadly at Radu. “You understand.”

He nodded. She was right. He knew how to do this. It would work. “I am glad to have you with me.”

She laughed. “Of course you are. Now put on a sorrowful but curious expression, and let us go see the city that is our sultan’s destiny.”

Radu faced forward again as they drew closer to the smaller wall that barred the way into the city. It felt like his whole life had been leading him here. If this was not how he had expected to enter, well, he would simply make the best of it. After all, Constantinople was the greatest city in the world.

Constantinople was not the greatest city in the world.

Compared with Edirne, it was a city of ruins. A city of ghosts. More than half the narrow, crowding houses they passed had an air of dereliction about them. Refuse filled the streets and pushed against foundations. Doors hung askew on some houses or were missing altogether from others. They passed entire blocks without seeing a soul. Unless scraggly stray cats and mean-looking mangy dogs had souls, in which case they passed many souls.

As Radu’s group moved from the outskirts, things improved slightly. More of the homes appeared lived-in. A few stalls with vendors popped up here and there, the men halfheartedly soliciting them as they passed. Women hurried through the streets, dragging children and darting furtive glances at their mounted procession.

Radu had expected more soldiers patrolling, especially if word of war had already reached the city, but they had seen no one aside from the guards at the gates.

And he had seen nothing of the fabled wealth of Constantinople. He had always known, rationally, that the streets were not paved in gold, but he had expected something more. Even Tirgoviste had glittered brighter than this.

Finally they came to a quarter that showed more life. They pulled to an abrupt stop as a priest crossed their path, swinging a censer and trailing scented smoke in his wake. He sang hauntingly in Greek. Behind him was a parade of people. It took several minutes before the citizens, eerily silent save for the singing priest, finally passed and their way was clear again.

“What was that?” Radu asked.

“A procession.” Cyprian looked troubled. “There is no small amount of internal strife. Most of it centers around Orthodoxy versus the Catholic Church. I will explain later. Come.”

Bells tolled, their clanging echoing through the city. Cyprian looked up, then sighed. “I had forgotten the day. My uncle will be in the cathedral. We cannot speak with him there. Come, I will get you settled. I have a home near the palace.”

“We cannot intrude,” Nazira said. “Surely there is someplace else?”

Cyprian waved her worries away. “I have many bedrooms and only one me. We could all live there and never see one another. Much like this city, my home is in need of a much higher population.”

Cyprian’s house was not far. It was a handsome, well-maintained building. The houses in Constantinople practically shared walls, narrow gaps between them sometimes disappearing where the roofs met. He pulled out a key and opened the front door. They were greeted with a wall of frigid air.

“Valentin, go start the fires.” The boy nodded and ran inside. Cyprian frowned. “I have a maid. Where is that girl? The main room should have a fire going already. Maria? Maria!” There was no response. “Well, come in. It will warm up soon enough.” He led them to a small sitting room, where Valentin had already succeeded in lighting a fire.

They heard footsteps on the stairs. “Maria?”

“Just me,” Valentin called out. “No one else here.”

Cyprian looked troubled. Nazira put a hand on his. “Your home is lovely. Thank you so much. I hope you know your kindness is not unappreciated.”