Page 27 of Crimson Oath (The Firebird and the Wolf #2)

A week later, Tatyana sat on a cushioned sofa set under the stars.

Her trailer was once again in the inner circle of the Poshani camp, lush carpets had been laid across the grass, and a light meal of smoked fish and caviar was set out on an open-air buffet as the children of the kamvasa put on a delightful play of their own composition that they called Baba Yaga and the Three Sisters .

“But you left my doll in the woods,” a little girl shouted from the stage in the center of the meadow. “And now I must go find it and… and Baba Yaga will eat me alive!”

One of the sisters was played by a red-cheeked boy who clearly was reveling in the extra attention of being the only boy in the cast. “Little sister, don’t worry about the witch in the forest. You’re too skinny to be a good meal.”

The human and vampire audience laughed at the boy’s high-pitched voice and silly expressions.

“Come, little sister.” The oldest girl held out her hand. “Let’s go to Papa’s barn. We will take the rope from the cow and tie it around your ankle. If you get lost, all you must do is follow the rope and it will lead you back home.”

“And don’t forget to wear the cow’s bell around your neck to scare off the witch.” The boy twirled a blond curl of the wig he was wearing.

“Don’t be silly!” The smallest sister was indignant. “If she thinks I’m a cow, she will definitely eat me for supper.”

The audience of humans and vampires laughed and clapped as the children ducked behind the green velvet curtain to prepare for the next scene.

Tatyana couldn’t remember the last play she’d enjoyed so much.

The children were silly and stumbling and exactly as enthusiastic as children should be in a play they had written themselves.

The audience cheered and clapped with abandon.

The musicians performed a score for the little players as if they were a professional troupe, and the costumes were lavish and carefully fitted.

A moment after the musicians took the stage for the scene change, she felt vampire energy approaching.

Tatyana sat up, and her amnis went on alert. The damp night air drew to her skin, only to relax a fraction when she realized it was Radu.

The clever wind vampire raised his hands and approached carefully in the darkness. “May I join you?”

She motioned to the space on the sofa beside her. “Please. I’m sorry if I seemed alarmed. I wasn’t expecting anyone to join me.”

Most of the paying guests kept to themselves, though she’d shared a drink with Madina, another vampire who had joined the kamvasa for the season.

Madina seemed overly curious about her origins, so Tatyana had spent most of the evening smiling, nodding, and talking about the skill of the Poshani musicians and the comfort of her travel trailer.

Unlike talking to Rumi, vampire small talk was not enjoyable. At all.

Madina seemed very important and very brusque. She probably thought Tatyana was a vapid idiot, but Tatyana didn’t care. She didn’t know the woman, and something about her felt hungry and scheming.

“How are you enjoying the play?” Radu said. “Can you follow what they are saying? My sister Kezia says you are becoming quite conversational in Poshani.”

“Yes, I understand most of it.” Tatyana’s eyes turned back to the stage as a little girl in a red dress walked out from behind a curtain with a bright white rope around her ankle. “Perhaps I need to speak with children before I try adults.”

Radu smiled. “We are all children when we are learning something new. I think it’s wonderful that you’re curious about our language and traditions,” he said. “Most of our paying guests are not.”

She glanced at him from the side. “Then that is their loss, to be so incurious.”

“Perhaps the worst insult for an immortal. ”

“Perhaps their doom,” she whispered. “I’m young, and I’m still learning about the world. Imagine being as old as Darius and uninterested in how the world has changed around you.” Tatyana shrugged. “I think a vampire wouldn’t live for very long if they were unwilling to learn new things.”

“You remind me of Oleg Sokolov,” Radu said.

Her head whipped to the side and she stared at him, the children’s play forgotten. “Is that so?”

“I believe you worked for him,” Radu said, “for a time.”

“I did.”

Though no one had called her “Oleg’s bookkeeper” since she’d been there, it didn’t surprise her that rumors had spread of their connection.

She knew the Poshani did checks on vampires before they let them in the kamvasa, and it was highly likely they were traveling through Oleg’s territory that season.

If Radu noticed her reaction, he didn’t comment on it.

“It’s an admirable thing to be as old as the Varangian and still be curious.

One of the things that has kept him in power, I think.

His willingness to change with the times.

And, of course, his willingness to be ruthless for his people and to protect their interests above all else. As a leader, I admire that.”

“Yes, he’s very protective.” She looked back at the stage, though some of her enjoyment for the play had waned. “At least, protective of people and things that belong to him.”

Radu leaned closer and dropped his voice.

“I hope you understand that though we are allied with the Varangian, your safety and privacy are our first priority,” he whispered.

“If anyone is looking for you—even someone who is our ally—the kamvasa will not betray you. That is our responsibility as your host. When you are a guest of the Poshani, we will protect you with our lives.”

She turned to Radu. “The children on the stage,” she whispered. “Do they belong to you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “All Poshani children are my responsibility. I am their terrin. ”

“So if anyone threatened them,” she said, “you would protect them.”

His dark eyes glinted in the lamplight. “As if they were my own blood.”

“I would do the same,” Tatyana said quietly. “In fact, I would kill for them. I have known they existed for only a few weeks, but I would commit violence to keep them safe. Ask me why.”

“Why?”

“Because there is innocence in the world, and it deserves to be protected,” Tatyana said. “For no other reason than that it exists.”

Radu stared at her a long time before he inclined his head. “I respect you, Tatyana Vorona.”

“I used to work for Oleg,” she continued. “And yes, I am sure there are ways that we are similar. But we are not the same.”

Radu reached into his pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. “This is for you.”

“A message?”

“A phone number.” He held it out. “He said you would want it.”

So Oleg had tried to call. Which meant he knew that she was with the kamvasa even if he didn’t know where they were. “He presumes much.”

“The number is yours to do with as you like.” Radu held his hand toward the fire. “I can burn it if you like.”

“Give it to me.” She grabbed the paper and stuffed it into her pocket.

“Very well.” He turned back to watch the children on the meadow stage. “A reminder that calls from the tablet in your trailer cannot be traced. All your communication either by text or voice is encrypted.”

“Thank you.” She shifted in her seat. “I probably won’t call it; I’ll probably burn it.”

“That is your prerogative, my friend.” Radu smiled a little bit.

“But you can tell him you gave me the number.”

“Only if you want me to. ”

“Oh no.” She pursed her lips. “I want you to tell him.”

Tatyana glanced at Radu, but he was watching the stage with amusement in his eyes.

The little girl on the stage spotted her doll leaning against a wooden tree. She crept forward on her hands and knees, crawling toward her doll.

Only to let out a high-pitched shriek as she was yanked back by the rope around her ankle.

“Baba Yaga!”