Page 27 of Jewel of the Assassin

“Not yet,” I say, folding my arms, turning to Valentina. “Do you have any special requests, Moya Koroleva?”

She shakes her head, offering Zina a soft smile. “Whatever you and the chef decide, I’m sure it will be wonderful.”

“Good,” she sniffs, adjusting her silk scarf.

Mikhail smirks at her. “You might want to send Shalun outside. My cat’s nesting here again.”

As if summoned, the beast himself stirs from beneath the altar, stretching out of her dull orange-colored fur. She’s slow and elegant, like she knows she owns the room. Poppy pads toward Mikhail, tail flicking like a threat.

Shalun immediately lets out a shrill, anxious caw from Zina’s shoulder, wings flapping in agitation.

Her head snaps toward Mikhail. “Maybe yourdemon catshould be banned from civilized spaces.”

He shrugs, calm and unruffled. “She was here first.”

“ShechasesShalun.”

“He’s faster.”

She narrows her eyes. “Youwoulddefend a spiteful orange furball with a murder streak.”

“And you,” he replies smoothly, “would defend a feathered menace with a superiority complex. Like owner, like bird.”

She hisses. “You insufferable two-face.”

“Tyrannical old hag.” He grins.

I chuckle, shaking my head, and lean close to Valentina, nudging her shoulder with mine. “Go on,” I whisper in her ear. “Enjoy the show. It only gets better.”

Mikhail straightens his coat with priestly solemnity, eyes flicking toward me. “May I make a suggestion for dinner?”

Zina scoffs. “Only if you plan to add your conniving cat to the menu.”

Valentina lifts a brow, smile growing. “Maybe we should just lock them in a confessional until they finally shag and get it overwith.”

The silence is immediate. Both of them stare at her like she’s just performed an exorcism with a dirty joke.

Stunned, I turn to her and grin. For the first time in years, someone’s managed to shut them both up. I stare at her like she’s holy. I’m not just possessive. I’m fucking in love.

A subtle vibration resonates in my wrist, and I glance down at the digital chip in my arm. Something I had embedded a few years ago. Cutting-edge technology. It holds a thousand secrets—ones only unlocked by my DNA. I recognize the subtle summons from my father.

I knew it was coming. I clear my throat. “Enough mischief for tonight.” I nod toward Zina and Mikhail. “One of you, escort Valentina back to her room. I’ll meet you both for dinner shortly.”

Zina steps forward, and Mikhail falls in beside her. Their eyes center on my wife.

I turn back to Valentina, voice low. “You should rest. I plan to keep you quite busy later.”

Her cheeks flush, warmth spreading like wildfire. Before she can answer, I press a searing kiss to her lips—brief, but charged. A promise for more. Then I step away.

“I’ll see you soon.”

She watches me go as I depart from the chapel, the heavy doors thudding behind me.

I make my way through the dim halls with their thick rugs and heavy curtains. I slip into my office—a sanctuary welcoming me with the scent of leather and old bourbon. I’ve forged invisible blades here, plotted bloodshed.

I settle into the worn leather chair, the chip in my wrist buzzing insistently. I tap it. The screen lights up: my father. I answer in Russian, my voice clipped, formal. “Roman,” he says, all business, tone colder than the Alaskan weather. “Where are you?”

“Why? Disappointed I didn’t make the wedding, Otetz?”