Radu gazed at the gilded ceiling in exasperation. “People respond to kindness, Lada. They trust a smile more than a promise that you will leave them choking on their own blood.” Lada snorted. “Yes, but my promise is more sincere than your smiles.
I find myself in sudden dire need to increase the potency of my charm spelling.
There you are, darling. So sorry I’m late.
Sometimes we have to hide from what others see in order to be what we know we are.
Mary Shelley changed the whole world.
I hate that I feel scared in a place where I should feel safe.
After all, fire and blood and death were nothing to a country led by a dragon.
You.” Vlad pointed at Lada. “Come out. Now.” She did, still watching the door Vasilissa had disappeared through. “I am your father. But that woman is not your mother. Your mother is Wallachia. Your mother is the very earth we go to now, the land I am prince of. Do you understand?” Lada looked up into her father’s eyes, deep-set and etched with years of cunning and cruelty. She nodded, then held out her hand. “The daughter of Wallachia wants her knife back.” Vlad smiled and gave it to her.
Radu had never really noticed Cyprian’s mouth before, but for some reason he could not look away from it now. With.
Weakness is an irresistible lure.
And if her expression looked as though she were plotting to murder her partner, well, Radu was used to that. He had missed it, actually.
Yes. He wanted Mehmed to look at him the way he had looked at Lada. He wanted Mehmed to kiss him the way he had kissed Lada. He wanted to be Lada. No, he did not. He wanted to be himself, and he wanted Mehmed to love him for being himself. His question, the question of Mehmed, was finally answered, piercing him and leaving him shaking, silent, on the floor. He did not want this answer.
Radu put one hand on her shoulder, felt Lada’s body contract with silent crying. “Get out,” she said again. He climbed onto the narrow bed and curled around her, holding her until she slept.
The fear of death can grow so large we let it keep us from living.
We do not act as your precious Christians do, slaughtering other Christians for believing the wrong way. Yes, we ask for payment. That is the price of safety. But we allow all people under our rule to believe what they will, so long as they do not disturb the peace.
She would never be the best Janissary, because she would never be a Janissary. She could never be powerful on her own, because she would always be a woman.
I have been stuck in the business of books for so long, I forgot how much fun being a part of a story can be.
Women truly were the stronger gender. All the subtle games they had to play, the way they teased power from those around them! She had much to learn there.
With a large enough number, a single digit will not have any impact. It’s when you isolate the numbers, set them apart, that they become important on their own.
She had never thought through the sheer logistics of this many people in a small space. Nor had she ever considered that a king would have to figure out how to deal with the chamber pots of a thousand citizens. In her head, it had been all swords and battles and glory and magic.