And I Darken (The Conqueror's Saga, #1)

by Kiersten White

Let her be strong. Let her be sly.

And let her be ugly.

But in Lada she saw a spark, a passionate, fierce glimmer that refused to hide or be dimmed. Rather than trying to stamp out that fire for the sake of Lada’s future, the nurse nurtured it.

She supposed if she had to marry anyone, it would be him. “Fine. But only if we agree that I am always in charge.”

He wanted to look others full in the face, unafraid, unashamed, even with nothing to his name.

He was a young man, clean-shaven because he did not own land and thus was not allowed to grow facial hair.

There was meanness at Mircea’s core.

If anyone is going to kill you, it will be me. Understand?” Radu nodded, snuggling into her shoulder. “Will you protect me?” “Until the day I kill 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.”

Control was power. No one would make her lose it.

“It may seem that way. But you always have a choice. You can choose to find comfort and solace in God. You can choose to be brave and compassionate. And you can choose to find beauty and happiness wherever they present themselves.”

“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.”

Anger carved away everything else inside—doubt, fear, embarrassment—leaving room for nothing else. She never felt more powerful than when she was angry with a sword in her hands.

“I have never wanted to be your master. I have servants. And teachers, and guards, and a father who despises me. I want you…to be my friend.” This was not the answer Lada had expected. She grasped for a response. “Why would you want that?” “Because.” Mehmed looked at the ground. “Because you do not tell me what you think I want to hear.” “I would more likely go out of my way to tell you something you do not want to hear.”

He told me I was born for greatness, placed in this world by the hand of God, and he would never let me forget or abandon that trust.”

“You would not let anyone else kill me.” “That honor is mine and mine alone.”

“I want to convert.” Molla Gurani simply blinked and nodded, as though Radu had commented on the weather. “No one can know. I mean, would that be acceptable? If it was just between God and me?” “A true conversion is always only between a man and God.”

MEHMED’S MOTHER MOVED WITH a sensuous grace that terrified Lada.

valide sultan

If Halima and Mara were different seasons, Huma was nature itself.

But there are many ways to be powerful. There is power in stillness. There is power in watching, waiting, saying the right thing at the right time to the right person. There is power in being a woman—oh yes, power in these bodies you gaze upon with derision.”

“When you have something someone else wants, there is always an element of power.”

“Or it can be given in exchange for more important things. These girls, my servants, understand that. The smart ones, anyhow. They will spend years climbing, trying to get in a position where they have some measure of control. The ones who are clever will do better than the ones who are merely beautiful.”

“There is no such thing as cheating. There is only winning or losing. I won.”

“And if we had both died?” “As long as you died first, I still would have counted it as winning.”

“There is great power in being a woman.

Carve out a life for yourself however you can. No one will do it for you.”

“Your brother, though. People will pluck out their own hearts to create a place for him. He will never have to get his hands dirty.”

“But hands painted red are hands that do what needs to be done.”

Because the way Mehmed looked at Lada as he left made her feel as powerful as she ever had.

“I stopped knowing what to fight against.”

“May you find some measure of happiness in your surrender.” She drank deeply. “May we all.”

“Your mistake is in assuming we both view them as an enemy.”

“I am not one of you,” Lada said, her mouth right next to his ear. “I am better.”

She turned to face him, carrying the fire in her eyes as a burning shield against everything she saw. “Also, I want to lead my own contingent of Janissaries.”

Part of her wanted to abandon Nicolae and meet Mehmed in his rooms. To take him as a lover instead of existing in this between state that was agonizing for both of them. To accept an easy life of being his. And part of her wanted to stab him for that.

“You cannot lose something you do not own.

His skin was soft and hot, always hot, as though he burned brighter than a normal person.

“Come, spend these few hours with me. I miss you.” She leaned forward, just out of his reach. “You should become accustomed to that sensation.”

If Mehmed died, they would have parted with him declaring his love and her answering with cruelty. He would never know how she felt—that he tormented her, that he was a bright star in the black nighttime of her life. It would be exactly what he deserved, to die without knowing, because he left her behind. And she would never forgive herself.

“You would not say that in front of me if I were a man.” “I transport gunpowder and teach fools how to avoid killing themselves with it. I say whatever I want in front of whomever I want.” Nicolae tripped up to them, nearly dancing in his excitement. “What should we blow up first?” His eyes were bright enough to light gunpowder without a flame. The woman sighed. “My name is Tohin. Might as well begin introductions, because it looks like I will be spending more time than normal keeping your fools from killing themselves.” “Tohin, I am glad to have you.” Lada was surprised to feel how sincerely she meant it.

“I think of you like a sister,” he said. “Like a brilliant, violent, occasionally terrifying sister that I would follow to the ends of the earth, in part because I respected her so much and in part because I feared what she would do to me if I refused.” She nodded. “I would do awful things.” Nicolae laughed. “The most awful.” “And then I would steal your horse lover, to spite you.” “Your cruelty knows no bounds.”

“You idiot,” she gasped. “You tremendous, arrogant ass.

“Then we go somewhere else.”

“To the ends of the earth,” he said. “To the ends of the earth.” With a tight smile, she turned to leave. “And, Lada? I am sorry about Mehmed. I know what he was to you.” She missed a step, nearly stumbling. “That is strange,” she said, eyes burning. “Because I do not think I know.”

But, as always, she was at the mercy of the men in her life. And,

“I forbid it.” “You can forbid me nothing.”

Some victories are merely defeat wearing the wrong clothing.”

“We cannot always have what we want, no matter how much we want it,” she whispered.

“Short steps,” Lada said. “Make your body curve wherever you can. Shoulders rounded, hips swaying. Walk as though you have nothing between your legs, which