Page 52 of Crimson Oath (The Firebird and the Wolf #2)
Oleg
I want to bite you again.
Oleg let her whisper linger in his head as Mika helped him dress for the meeting with Radu that was about to take place.
He was wearing the same suit he’d worn when he took a walk with Tatyana, but the formal cape he donned to meet Radu was far more elaborate and—though she had joked about it—he did have a crown, though it was not a traditional piece of finery.
Mika lifted the heavy cape trimmed in ermine and draped it over Oleg’s shoulders. “Remember, the first point of this meeting is to get a verbal pledge from Radu that he is still an ally and get assurances that he will not be surrendering a goblet.”
“And you’re still confident that Radu is ignorant about Vano’s actions?”
“You’ll have to make that judgment when you see him, but all the information that Polina, Juliya, and I can find says that Vano is in this alone with Ivan.”
“And you have the statement from Danior?”
Mika held up a tablet encased in plastic. “I do. ”
Oleg walked to the bathroom, and the moment he looked through the door, he was back in Tatyana’s trailer, fucking her against the wall of the shower as he barely held on to control.
“Whatever you’re thinking about right now,” Mika muttered, “stop.”
“Tatyana is not going to come back to work for me.”
“Are you seriously thinking about the woman right now?” Mika snapped. “We’re talking about the security of the empire, and you?—”
“I’m talking about a woman who is not only going to be very important to my future but also the future of our territory.” Oleg turned and glared at his boyar. “Be very careful what you say right now.”
Mika snapped his mouth shut; then, after a long moment of silence, he carefully said, “Then I suggest you focus on securing that territory, reinforcing the power of an ally, and rooting out the snake that has been living in the grass.”
“Fine.” Oleg walked into the bathroom, and Mika handed him an elaborately carved wooden box. He opened it and saw Truvor’s crown sitting on a bed of red velvet.
Mika glanced at the old thing. “It’s impossible to look at it and not see his helmet.”
“I know; that’s the point.”
Oleg had hammered the circlet from the twisted remains of the iron helmet Truvor kept hanging on his fortress wall. The metal had been crusted with human blood, and the ridge of osprey feathers was broken and battered.
It was hideous, yet Truvor had kept that thing and all of his armor hanging on the wall of the castle where he’d brutalized his army and especially his offspring.
After Truvor and all his loyalists were dead, Oleg had marched into the fortress’s massive throne room and burned everything his sire had touched. To this day, the seams between the stones were filled with black ash from his fire.
He’d ripped Truvor’s helmet from the wall, and the parts that hadn’t burned he’d fashioned with his bare hands into a crude crown that he’d shoved onto his forehead when it was still red-hot. The scar the crown left was so severe he’d worn it for a century.
Every brother who faced him. Every enemy he killed. The last thing they saw was the twisted remnants of Truvor’s helmet burned into Oleg’s forehead.
Eventually he’d hammered something decent-looking from it, then coated the circlet in gold and set a ruby in the center where the crown rested on his forehead, a reminder of the blood that had forged the immortal Kievan Rus and the blood that it took to hold it.
Oleg lifted the crown and put it on his head. It wasn’t beautiful, and it was heavy.
The crown hadn’t been made for beauty. It had always been meant to send a message.
“Radu is a friend,” Mika reminded him. “Remember that. He’s an ally, but he’s going to resist you telling him what to do. The Poshani are fiercely independent.”
“He’s ready to move on,” Oleg said. “He’s been serving for centuries. I think he wants a break.”
“And you’re asking him to commit to another century,” Mika said. “I know.”
“We know.” Oleg stared at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. What would she think of this bloody crown? Would she be willing to stand next to the man who wore it?
She’d taken him as a lover. Even confided in him. There was trust growing between them, and their blood was mingled. But would Tatyana Vorona—so new to immortal life—be willing to publicly stand with a vampire known to the immortal world as one of its most brutal leaders?
Oleg turned to leave the bathroom, and Mika shut the door behind him.
“Oleg Sokolov, Varangian of Gardariki and Knyaz of the Kievan Rus.”
The Hazar at the door announced his presence in the terrin’s tent, and Oleg strode forward with Mika following him and Oksana bringing up the rear.
Radu, Kezia, and Vano sat on low sofas on the far side of the highly decorated tent that had been set up the night before. The center pole of the tent was the size of a large cedar tree and carved with intricate decorations higher than Oleg’s eye.
As he passed it, he noticed the personal crests of Radu’s family, then Kezia’s, then Vano’s. The next terrin would carve their own crest into that pole and add their name to the list of immortals who had watched over the Poshani people.
Radu rose to greet him. “My friend.”
Oleg stopped a few feet away and bowed slightly. “Radu le Basarab, Kezia le Almásy, Vano le Krizenov, you honor me with your invitation to this most sacred event.”
“Welcome, Lord Oleg, and thank you for your attendance,” Vano said. “It has been too long since we have been in our company.”
“Thank you, Vano.” Oleg looked over and winked at Kezia. “I see that you’ve convinced your clever sister to let you live another few years.”
Radu and Kezia both chuckled.
“I try to be gracious,” Kezia said. “Welcome, Lord Oleg.”
Oleg sat down on a low couch across from them, and Mika stepped forward to present the gifts that he’d brought for them.
Bars of gold. Bottles of the finest vodka. Cattle horns to signify the beef they would be gifting to the kamvasa. And, finally, a whole sturgeon that the darigan brought in and laid on a low table in front of Oleg .
He made the first ceremonial cut into the belly of the fish, revealing the shining black roe the darigan would clean and process to produce a rich harvest of salted caviar for the Poshani to enjoy after the Vashana.
“Lord Oleg, you honor us with gifts,” Radu said.
“Please know that while you are here, the hospitality of the kamvasa is yours. No blade will touch your neck, no light will touch your skin, and no hunger will be left wanting. Our home is your home; our Hazar and our darigan will protect you with their own lives.”
“Thank you, Radu.” It wasn’t proper to address Poshani terrin with any sort of title as they were considered servants of the clan. “I accept the hospitality of the kamvasa. While I reside with you, my axe belongs to you and I will defend your sovereignty with my blood and fire.”
Formal greetings and oaths taken, most of the darigan retreated, leaving Oleg alone with the three terrin while Mika and Oksana sat at a distance.
“Truly,” Kezia said, “it has been too long since you’ve visited, Oleg.”
“Agreed.” Vano reached for a goblet of blood-wine. “Far too long.”
Oleg smiled. Did Vano know he’d been sneaking in to see Tatyana? He wouldn’t be surprised. No doubt the scheming vampire had tucked that information away for his own use later.
“We’ll finish this drink,” Radu said, “then we should settle that question about the Bucharest property, don’t you think?”
“Agreed.” Oleg was eager to leave the terrin’s tent, but he forced himself to finish his wine.
“Business talk on the eve of the Vashana, brother?” Kezia asked as she lifted a glass to her lips. “You are working hard.”
“I never thought we’d be saying that about you.” Vano laughed, but the humor had an edge.
Radu cut his gaze to the side, but Oleg kept his eyes firmly on Radu and only smiled. “I’m sure we can settle our discussion quickly. I am looking forward to the ceremony tomorrow night.”
Go on and joke. Oleg’s tone was clear. The adults in the room have important matters to discuss.
“We’re all ready for the Vashana.” Kezia sat back, and her eyes narrowed when she looked at Vano. “It’s been an interesting season. We should catch up later, Oleg.”
“I’ll make sure to reserve the time.”
The four vampires exchanged pleasantries for another hour, sharing blood-wine, previously prepared caviar, and delicate bites of traditional Poshani delicacies as they chatted about the weather, the entertainment and plays the humans had performed, and other light diplomatic talk.
Soon enough, Oleg and Radu were leaving the terrin’s tent and walking into the night, moving from the center of the caravan to Radu’s personal trailer.
Mika handed him the tablet while Radu’s secretary handed him a folder; then Mika, Oksana, and Radu’s people were stationed at a distance while the two friends talked inside.
“It’s a good thing I like you,” Radu said. “And her.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
All the trailers in the kamvasa were luxurious, but unlike the generic ambience of a five-star hotel in Oleg’s and Tatyana’s lodgings, Radu’s trailer had the feeling of a very eclectic, very wealthy home.
There were stacks of books piled behind wire-framed cabinets. A conversation area with fresh flowers on a gold-painted table. Wooden cabinets lined the walls, and there were thick Persian rugs layered on the floor.
Radu sat on a leather sofa. “You’re good, but you’re not that good. You think I can’t smell your smoke trail a mile away?”
“Again, I have no idea what you’re referring to.” Oleg smiled and removed the awkward crown. “I can take this off, can’t I?”
“Of course you can.” Radu grimaced. “It’s hideous. Surely you can create something more beautiful of your own design. I’ve seen your work.”
Radu was one of the few vampires who had seen the citadel and all of Oleg’s extensive mosaic work there.