Page 86 of Bright We Burn

A man screamed as an explosion blew tiny missiles of stones and debris into the air and sent Lada to her knees. She wiped away blood trailing into her eyes to see half the outer wall blown apart—the half that was one side of the room where their cannons and gunpowder were kept.

“God’s wounds.” She had always thought getting married would be the death of her. She had not expected that fear to be realized quite so literally.

One of the towers groaned, rocks raining down. The fortress had gone up fast, speed and secrecy being Lada’s main goals. She had not designed it to withstand artillery, assuming no one would be able to haul massive, heavy cannons up mountains without being noticed. It had been a tremendous failure of imagination on her part.

Radu did not suffer the same lack.

Lada’s men found openings wherever they could, firing off crossbows and arrows. She clutched her locket, a sensation that she was forgetting something, missing something vital plaguing her. But she knew what was missing, and he would never return. Then, another tiny flutter in her stomach. She felt as though she were the one tumbling down the mountain.

She had to focus. She ran to the other side of the fortress and climbed a ladder up the wall, peering down over the gate at the path that wound treacherously down.

“You!” She grabbed a man—Grigore—as he huddled next to the wall and whatever protection it offered. “I am sending you for help. They are not on this side of the mountain yet.”

Lada threw a rope over the wall. She tied it off, then gestured to it.

“But—” He looked desperately around, hesitating.

“Would you rather be out there with them, or in here with me after disobeying my order?”

Grigore threw himself over the wall, scrambling down the rope. He was nearly to the bottom when a crossbow bolt sank into his belly and he dropped, screaming.

“Burn the bridge!” Lada shouted, ducking. The fortress was built on a jutting slab of peak, and a wooden bridge spanned the ravine between the peak and the rest of the mountain. It was another natural defense. For all the good it would do them under this barrage.

Lada climbed back down to the fortress floor as men dumped pitch over the wall onto the bridge, then lit arrows and fired them.

For all she knew, there was only a single Janissary on her mountain. If they all ran for it, they could possibly overwhelm whoever was out there. Many of them might make it. But Radu had more resources than she did. He could have ten thousand men waiting in the trees.

He could not bring down the entire fortress in one day. He could pick away at it, but it would be at least a week before the small cannons he could have hauled that far up the mountain would do enough damage to bring the whole thing down. He had been lucky with the shot taking out her gunpowder stores. The rest of the process would be slower.

Generously, Lada estimated they had one defensible week. They could fight their way down the mountain, but there was no way to do it in secret. So even if Radu did not have many men waiting, he would see them fleeing and have enough time to move his men to the bottom and wait.

If Lada waited out the slow cannon death of the fortress, the villagers would eventually notice. But they would have no idea who to go to for help. And she had not yet sent out any instructions to her men. As far as her soldiers hiding throughout these mountains knew, they were doing precisely what they were supposed to: waiting.

Thousands of willing fighters, and no one to help.

Bogdan was dead. Lada kept remembering that anew. But this time she felt a wash of relief that Oana had been abandoned. That she had not seen this. It had been a mercy, after all, leaving her behind. One good thing to come of Lada’s betrayal.

She stood in the tiny courtyard, listening to men shouting, watching them running around her.

Seeing Bogdan fall, again, and again, and again.

She was alone. For the first time she could remember, she was well and truly alone. She had thought herself strong and apart, but that had been a lie.

As a child, she had had her nurse. Her Bogdan. Her worship of her father. And Radu.

Then she had had Radu and Mehmed.

Then she had had Nicolae and her men, and in her mind she had still had Radu and Mehmed, though she knew now that it was a lie and always had been.

She had even gotten her Bogdan and her nurse back, and built a small army of people around her. But one by one they had left, or been taken from her.

The fluttering sensation in her lower abdomen came back, and she could not catch her breath, could not stop her racing heart. She was not alone.

She was alone.

“Fire everything we have left, and then abandon the fortress!” she shouted. The men stopped, disbelief freezing them. And then, as they followed her orders, their actions became frenzied.

She walked, numb and heedless of the surrounding chaos, to the nearest door. Inside the room was an old well covered with planks of wood that they had built around. Lada picked up a length of rope against the wall and tied it to a metal loop fixed into the stones. Then she pushed aside the planks, dropped the rope inside, and climbed into the well.