“These are lives, Lada,” Radu said. “How can you speak of them like they are matters of simple mathematics, a problem to be solved?” Lada stood, a hand to her side against the pain of her wound. “Because thinking like that is the only way to keep from losing our minds.” “What about our souls?” Mehmed whispered. Before Lada walked out, she paused at the door. “Souls and thrones are irreconcilable.”
