Chapter 30
Tatyana
The shaft of the arrow pierced the center of Oleg’s back with a hard thunk as the crowd gasped and rose to its feet.
“Vpered!”
Tatyana heard Ivan shout the command and the red-coated Muscovite vampires surged from the sidelines, running forward and pulling axes from their long coats, ripping the earth from beneath the chaugan field as horses and humans screamed.
They turned on all their brethren, who raised their hands in defense, turned on the guests witnessing the match, and turned even on their own who did not pull weapons from their coats.
There was chaos and confusion as the vampires of the Kievan Rus broke apart, some running across the field to meet the battle without weapons while others stood in defense of the guests under attack.
In the chaos and torchlight, all Tatyana could see was her mate, bent forward with an arrow driven straight through his chest.
“Tatyana le Tala!” Sándor was off his mount and flying at her side. “We must get you off the field immediately.” He held out his hand as another Hazar flew toward her.
But her blood was raging. She wanted to kill. She wanted to kill Ivan. “Find me a weapon!”
“Oleg can protect himself!”
The Hazar flying toward them spun in the air, and Tatyana saw the arrow sticking out from the Poshani woman’s shoulder.
“Archers.” She pointed. “In the trees. Just like my mother’s house. Sándor, find me a weapon now!”
She dismounted from her horse, slapping the animal’s rump to urge it away from the field, which was rumbling beneath her feet in a near-constant earthquake.
The earth was rippling like a wind-whipped sea, but Tatyana ran toward the last place she had spotted Oleg. She couldn’t see anything clearly in the chaos of panicked horses, fleeing humans, and vampires who were looking for the source of the arrows.
She reached out with her amnis and felt the tie between her and her mate like a tight cord running from her chest.
“Yes.” She lifted her hands, drawing a veil of snow and ice around herself to block out the vision of the archers.
But no. That was too visible. Too focused. She heard arrows cutting through the air over her head.
Tatyana lifted her hands again, drawing on the combined energy of hers and Oleg’s blood to raise as much snow as possible, a white wall of confusion to keep the snipers at bay.
She felt someone approaching from the left.
“Knyaginya!” Ludmila shouted. “Come with me.”
The sniper grasped her by the arm and pulled her into the white wall of snow even as they tripped over a rock that burst from the ground.
“Rudov cannot be trusted,” Ludmila said. “I saw some of his people helping Ivan’s.”
“Rudov?” What did that mean for Oleg? For Juliya, Rudov’s daughter? “Who can we trust?”
“Oleg and your people,” Ludmila said. “Right now that is all.”
Tatyana felt his heat and his fury in her own veins. He was alive. Clearly and furiously alive. She gripped Ludmila’s arm and tugged. “Come with me.”
The chaos around them had descended into bloodshed, with Ivan’s men wielding axes even against the partygoers. Tatyana saw a blond vampire in a bright yellow sarafan on the ground, her head lying next to her body.
There was a red-and-green-coated vampire lying on top of her with his head nearly severed.
Tatyana nearly vomited the blood-wine she’d taken earlier in the evening.
There was blood on the snow, blood in the air. Arrows cutting through the snowstorm, shot blindly by archers in the trees.
Ludmila wheeled around, yanking her arm from Tatyana’s as a red-coated vampire burst through the drifting wall of snow, his axe raised at Tatyana.
The small vampire went low, barreling toward the vampire’s legs as she pulled a long silver dagger from her coat. She rolled and cut the back of both the man’s knees, sending him to the ground as he tripped and fell forward.
The edge of his axe caught Tatyana’s arm, which was covered by the thick fur-lined riding coat. She felt the edge of the blade against her skin, but the cut was shallow. Within seconds she had pulled the axe from the man’s fumbling grip, spun around, and struck, taking his head off with one stroke.
Ludmila, still on the ground, grinned at her with lethal fangs.
“Knyaginya,” she muttered with a smile.
“Come on!”
“Tanya!”
She heard Sándor’s voice in the snowstorm, but she didn’t stop, running toward the growing glow of fire that was lighting up the darkness.
She leaped over fallen warriors in bloody coats. She swung out at anyone who came after her with a blade, and Sándor flew at her side, diving down with his curved sword, slashing Ivan’s men and knocking them to the ground where Tatyana and Ludmila finished them off.
When she reached the perimeter of Oleg’s fire, she froze in awestruck horror and wonder, the snow around her turning to steam as it reached the heated vortex of his flames.
There was a ring of fire surrounding her mate, his shirt had turned to ashes, and steam rose from his bare shoulders.
The swirling snow around him vaporized as he stalked across the field. The ground beneath him was thick mud. Vampires and humans screamed and ran in terror as he approached.
The tents set up for spectators caught on fire, and wagons and carriages were already burning.
“Ivan!”
There was a black mark on Oleg’s chest where the arrow had turned to ash, but even as he walked, the ground beneath him rocked and rolled with the combined energy of dozens of earth vampires on the attack.
Tatyana saw Hazar and white-coated vampires darting through the snow-covered forest, flashes of bright red blood falling like rain to the ground.
“Ivan!” Oleg roared his brother’s name again. “You send your sons to fight your battles?”
Tatyana drew as much water around her as she could manage as she walked toward him; an arrow that flew over her shoulder turned to ash when his fire caught it midair.
“Oleg!” she cried out, and he turned to her.
Their eyes met, and Tatyana nodded and raised her axe.
Oleg’s fangs cut his lips when he smiled. “My queen.” He pointed at Ludmila. “Do not leave her side!”
As he spoke, an axe flew through the fiery perimeter, the shaft burning away but the head flipping end over end, flashing in the bright red and gold flames, making straight for Oleg’s skull.