Page 17 of Crimson Oath (The Firebird and the Wolf #2)

“I realize that on an emotional level, and I know how close the two of you were,” Oleg said.

“But SMO is suffering from lack of clear leadership. The overseas shipping arm of the company is central to our corporate plan over the next century, and the current political situation with the humans needs a steady hand. We must hire a replacement who can fill the gap.”

“Fine.” Polina was clearly unpleased, but she was a businesswoman too. “Send me any files you have on possible replacements and a secure link. Unless you want to send a plane for me and Alexi.”

“A screen meeting is fine for now,” he said. “And there are no candidates yet. I’m asking everyone to put forward their best, so think about who could step into the role from your region.”

“Human?”

“Yes. Day meetings are a necessity, so yes. I want to promote from within the organization, but I’m open to ideas. When the final vote happens, it will be in person.”

“Understood.” She reached toward a button on her desk. “I think Natalya’s crying again. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Polina?”

“What?” Her eyes darted toward the door.

“I love you, and I’m proud of you,” Oleg said softly. “Give my granddaughter a kiss.”

Oleg sat at the head of a table in Odesa, surrounded by five vampires, a trusted human scribe, and three screens bearing the faces of three of his governors.

“My most trusted governors,” he said to start the meeting. “It is good to see you all.”

While his druzhina—his inner circle—was heavily represented in his governors, there were two vampires, his brothers Ivan and Pavel, who had also been granted governor seats despite the fact that they were not in Oleg’s personal circle.

Both oversaw key areas of his empire. Pavel was one of his oldest living brothers and had overseen his northern ports for centuries. Oleg’s most troublesome brother, Ivan, oversaw Moscow and much of the Russian heartland with the criminal gang he’d created.

“Lidik is in Odesa.” Pavel was on a screen and his voice sounded accusatory, but that was nothing new. “I did not know that exterior governors were flying in.”

Pavel was distant, cold, and extremely efficient. He could also be as irritable as a wet cat.

“Lidik happened to be in the region for something unrelated.” Oleg glanced at the Siberian woman who sat stiffly in the corporate conference room.

“I’m meeting one of my children tomorrow night,” Lidik said quietly. “She recently relocated from Kashgar to Capadoccia.”

“It’s lovely to see you.” Polina was also on a screen. “Will you be in the area more often now that she’s moved?”

“Doubtful.” Lidik glanced at Oleg. “I’ll be here when the knyaz requires it, as always.”

Lidik rarely left Siberia, and Oleg was fine with that. She was dressed in traditional Siberian clothing, mostly fur, despite the balmy spring weather in Odesa. Her long hair was braided elaborately, and she stared at the table in front of her, tracing the pattern of burl on the polished wood.

The wind vampire wasn’t blood related to any of his clan, but four centuries before, Oleg had saved her life. As a result, Lidik was more loyal to him than most of his blood relations.

She was also a favorite of Polina and his brother’s child Juliya, who was sitting next to Oleg in the conference room.

“If we could take roll for the scribe,” Juliya said, “we can get started with the meeting. This is procedural but important.”

“I don’t know why any of that nonsense is necessary.” Ivan’s resonant baritone voice rolled over the room, filling the space. “When did we start keeping records like humans? We don’t have shareholders, brother.”

“It’s necessary because I want it,” Oleg said. “That is all you need to know.”

Ivan stared at him for a moment; then his face broke into a wide smile. “How modern! Very forward thinking, brother.”

Ivan usually addressed Oleg as brother even though they’d never been close. It was as if he received pleasure by reminding Oleg that—despite their mutual dislike—they shared Truvor’s blood.

Oleg hadn’t realized that Ivan was in Odesa, and he was slightly annoyed that his brother had slipped into the city under his nose.

He glanced at Mika, but the Estonian only lifted one dark eyebrow.

Oleg had a purpose for the minutes of the meeting. He had every intention of looking over the candidates for chief financial officer alone with Mika and possibly with Tatyana. As recently human, she would have valuable perspective on the matter.

“Pavel.” The vampire’s clipped voice started the roll. “Present via screen.”

“Mika, present in Odesa.”

“Polina,” his daughter called. “Present via screen.”

“Lazlo,” Oleg’s oldest brother grumbled from a screen in the corner. “And I’m staring at Oleg’s face on a television again. For the record, he’s still an ugly bastard.”

Oleg smiled, and all the vampires around him chuckled .

He did notice the scribe carefully jotting down Lazlo’s words. Lovely. That would amuse Tatyana.

“Rudov.” Oleg’s last brother spoke. “And I am present in Odesa.”

Normally both Rudov and Ivan would have attended via screen, but Ivan had shown up unannounced for some reason, and Rudov happened to be in Odesa to confer with Juliya about the current situation with the Crimean ports.

“It’s rare for us to have so many governors in one place,” Oleg said. “Which is why I wanted to call this meeting. We need a new CFO, and I’d like it to be a human from one of your organizations.”

“An excellent idea,” Ivan said. “I have several very talented people who could step into the role. I’m not eager to part with any of them, but for my dear brother?” Ivan nodded. With consequence. “I would make the sacrifice for our clan.”

Moscow was an economic powerhouse, and Oleg had no doubt that Ivan had a half dozen superb humans who could fill the role.

Unfortunately, all of them would be loyal to Ivan. Not Oleg.

“That’s enormously generous,” Oleg said.

“Tonight we’re simply offering names. And take some time to think about it.

” He looked at Pavel, sensing the objection even before the fastidious vampire spoke.

“Think carefully about the role and who this person will be succeeding. Elene Beridze will be impossible to replace, but we must do our best.”

“I don’t think the small commercial interests in my sector have produced any humans who could replace Elene,” Lidik said. “But I’ll think about it.”

“I have two people in mind,” Rudov said. “I imagine Juliya can guess at least one of them.”

Juliya was the governor of the region west of the Dnieper River and going southwest toward Romania, which meant her region held both Kyiv and Odesa, while Rudov governed the region south of Ivan’s and stretching to the Black Sea. The two often worked closely, particularly on shipping and logistics.

Rudov was also Juliya’s sire. While technically she was under Rudov’s aegis, she had sought permission from her sire to pledge loyalty to Oleg’s authority and Rudov had granted it. The two made for a powerful and stable duo in a region where human politics could be turbulent and bloody.

“I want to hear all your ideas,” Oleg said. “I’m going to outline what I’m looking for; then you can ask any questions you may have. Think it over, then send me individual files on your two best candidates and I’ll consider them. We will meet again in a month to vote.”

He looked around the room. “I will have the final say, of course, but I do want your opinions.”

Eight voices spoke. “Yes, Knyaz.”

Eight faces. Eight nods.

Eight very strong personalities.

Oleg knew that without their cooperation, he could never govern a region as vast as the Kievan Rus. In fact, he often thought about breaking up the empire he’d taken from his sire.

Glancing at Ivan, he knew it was impossible. The idea of dividing Truvor’s empire was akin to shattering a stained-glass window.

Each part of it supported and held the next. Without the whole of it, there were countless sharp edges.

And sharp edges led to bleeding.

The Immortal Empire of the Kievan Rus was tied together by history, war, and blood.

It was Oleg’s responsibility to keep it whole.