Jonalyn Bautista

“The streaks of light continued, sometimes coming so fast Lada could not keep track of them. Mehmed held up his hands, palms out, to either Draculesti beside him. Radu took one hand. Lada did not move, but when Mehmed lowered his hand to hers, she did not pull away.

Radu lifted his free hand as though he would catch an especially bright star. “It is so sad they have to die.”

Lada’s eyes watered from being held open so long, and a tear fell from the corner of her eye into her hair. Here, tonight, with Mehmed and Radu, felt like a dream she was terrified to let slip away. But the stars were real, and she would not miss the passing of a single one. “If they were not burning, we would never know they were there.”

“I am glad we are here,” Mehmed said”
― Kiersten White, And I Darken

“As though following his train of thought, Lada said, “He can never love you. Not the way you love him.”

Radu laughed, but it sounded old and brittle. “Do you think I do not know that? And still this is better than what we can ever hope for in Wallachia. How can you not see that? You have him, Lada. You have his heart and his eyes and his soul. I have seen the way you wait for him to look at you, the way you relish his attentions. You pretend you do not love him, but you cannot lie to me.” He paused. Then, unable to stop himself, he slipped into a goading tone. “No one will ever love you as he does—as an equal—and you know it. You will not leave that. You cannot.”

She stiffened. Radu saw her fingers curl into fists, ready for a fight. “I can. I have already started. He will never forgive me for admitting my betrayal.”

Radu was reminded of her beating the boyar sons in the forest outside Tirgoviste. Those same fists had always defied everything expected of her. Now he had made her love of Mehmed a challenge to be overcome. His heart sank as he realized that by taunting her that she could not leave, he had virtually guaranteed she would do exactly that.

Maybe he had known that all along.”
― Kiersten White, And I Darken

“Lada furiously scrubbed the blood from her nightclothes.

As she did, she cursed her mother, for making her a girl.

She cursed her father, for leaving her here.

And she cursed her own body, for leaving her so vulnerable.

She was so busy with a stream of cursing that she did not hear the door open.

“Oh,” said the maid, a girl fragile and darting as a bird.

Lada looked up in horror. Evidence of her womanhood draped over her hands, the red an undeniable testament. She had been caught. An image of herself crawling and weeping swept through her mind. That was what a wife was. What a wife did.

And now this maid, this spy, knew she was old enough to be a wife.

With a scream, Lada jumped on the maid, hitting her around the head. The maid dropped to the floor, bracing against the blows and crying out. Lada did not stop. She hit and kicked and bit, all while screaming obscenities in every language available to her.

Arms pulled at her, a voice she knew pleading desperately, but she did not stop. She could not stop. This was the end of her last shred of freedom, all because of the prying eyes of a maid.”
― Kiersten White, And I Darken

“You are fascinated with the girls,” Huma said. Lada snapped her attention back to the older woman. She had assumed Huma was so absorbed in her consumption of food that Lada had let her mind and gaze wander.

“Why do they veil their faces? Does your god hate even the sight of women?”

Huma laughed. “You misunderstand. Women should veil their bodies, yes. But veiling the face is a symbol of status. Only women who are so well provided for they can afford not to do menial labor may wear a veil. These girls have earned their veils. It is a mark of privilege.”

“Privilege? They are slaves!”

Huma laughed. “So am I, dearest. I was sold as a very young girl, brought to the harem as a servant as well.”

Lada scowled. “You should have fought them. You should have escaped.”

“To where? I was angry, for many years. And frightened. 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.” Huma ran one hand down her ample breasts, over her stomach, and rested it on her hip. “When you have something someone else wants, there is always an element of power.”

“But it can be taken from you.” Lada had seen enough of men and the world to know that a woman’s body was not an object 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.”

Her gaze was so pointed, Lada felt herself blush. She dropped the pieces of ripped flatbread onto the plate in front of her. She felt awkward, ungainly, and uglier than she had ever considered herself before. It had not bothered her, most of her life, knowing that she was not beautiful, would never gain admiration for her looks alone. But Huma used her face as a weapon and a tool in a way Lada never could. Lada had never realized that simply by being attractive, she might have gained more threads of power.”
― Kiersten White, And I Darken