Chapter 32
Tatyana
“And then Tatyana le Tala, the warrior terrin of the Poshani, ran up with her own axe and cut off the head of the evil vampire Ivan the Red!”
The children gasped, and more than one covered their little round mouth or their wide eyes.
Rumi continued, “Then, as Ivan’s head rolled across the snowy field, she claimed the Russian vampire king as her own blood mate.”
Despite the gory narrative, one of the little girls listening to the story giggled.
There were at least a dozen wide-eyed children sitting in Tatyana’s living room, listening to Rumi share the story of Tatyana’s more than unusual wedding while she finished working for the night.
Tatyana leaned over to Sándor. “Isn’t this story a little—”
“It’s fine,” he whispered. “Poshani kids like a little blood and gore before bedtime.”
Tatyana shook her head and kept working.
Rumi finished the children’s new favorite story. “For in defending Tatyana le Tala and fighting for the Poshani people, Oleg, the King of the Rus, had proven to be worthy of being the true mate of a Poshani terrin and was allowed to join our people.”
Now there were claps.
Sándor leaned over to her. “You’re a legend, Tatyana le Tala.”
And Tatyana, who was sitting behind her desk, reckoning expense reports from her bookkeeper like the legend she was, nodded. “I do appreciate how Oleg is basically sidelined in Rumi’s version of this story.”
Sándor pursed his lips and nodded. “It’s good for him. It’s a Poshani story. The Russian is always going to be a supporting character.”
Her chief Hazar had more than enough respect for her husband, but Tatyana was pleased at the mutually respectful—and mildly antagonistic—relationship that Sándor and Oleg had developed.
It had been six months since Tatyana and Oleg’s state wedding, and despite her fears, most of Tatyana’s Poshani family seemed utterly charmed by the idea that the two former rivals had fallen in love through their short engagement and were now mates in truth.
The Poshani credited Tatyana’s violence at the wedding reception for making the Russian knyaz fall desperately in love. And Tatyana said nothing to dissuade them.
Her adoptive family tended toward hopeless romanticism, and if there were a few rumors about Tatyana concealing her relationship with Oleg or questioning her loyalty to the clan, they were quickly snuffed out when she absolutely skewered the Sokolovs during negotiations for a port expansion project in Constanta.
“You did land the killing blow,” Sándor said.
“Hmm?” She frowned. “In Constanta?”
“No.” The Hazar chuckled. “Not the financial blow—though you did that as well. No, I was talking about Ivan.”
She shook her head. “Don’t even say that name.”
Though she was as pleased as anyone to be rid of Oleg’s vile brother, there was nothing about that final week in Saint Petersburg she would relish save for the wedding ceremony itself.
Three of Sándor’s men were dead in Moscow, and she could not even be open with their families about why. Sándor told her that if she revealed those men’s true purpose, it could put others at risk.
Assets, he called them.
Yes, they were Poshani men. Someone’s son. Someone’s brother.
But they were also assets.
So Tatyana carried the truth of their loss in her heart, made sure the families of those men were well taken care of, and kept moving forward.
Because as her husband had taught her, real leadership didn’t always mean making things even.
And it never meant making things perfect.
Leadership meant making the best of things for the greatest number of people.
She had to swallow her losses and move past her mistakes because guilt was a luxury she did not have time to entertain.
Her people didn’t need guilt. They needed her to keep them safe and make their lives better.
If you do your job correctly, he had mused one night, they might even forget you exist.
Tatyana reached the final line of the spreadsheet, made her notes, and then sent the file off to her bookkeeper before she closed her laptop with a slap.
Well, it was more like a thunk because of all the insulation, but it was still quite satisfying.
“All finished?” Sándor asked.
“Yes.”
“Ready to head to Wilga?” He glanced at the clock. “It’s only midnight. We have plenty of time.”
“I’m ready.” She nodded at Rumi, who was ushering the last of the children out the door. “Another beautiful happily-ever-after.”
She took a slight bow. “Did you finish the expense reports?”
“Yes, mother.”
Rumi shook her finger at Tatyana. “You’ve been putting them off for weeks. Don’t make me call your real mother.”
“God no.” Tatyana sat back and closed her eyes.
“Kostya has a report ready for you also.”
Tatyana groaned. She’d hired Grimace to do a cyberaudit of all of their operations, focusing on anything that reached into Ivan’s former territory, which was now being run by Pavel’s son Yury.
He kept coming up with more weaknesses and holes.
“Tell him I’m going to my mother’s house, and if he wants me to get that report, he will have to call her actual landline and get her fax number to send it to me.” Tatyana lifted her hands. “Because I’m not taking my computer this weekend.”
“Oooh,” Rumi said. “An actual conversation over the phone?” She shook her head. “He wouldn’t dare. Especially not with your mother.”
“Then I’m safe,” she whispered. “Come on, Sándor. Let’s get out of here.”
Sándor cast a longing look at Rumi, who was staying behind and holding down the fort in Warsaw because she had her children for the weekend.
“Still?” Tatyana muttered. “One of these days she’s going to meet someone if you don’t—”
“Mind your business.” Sándor walked to the door and picked up her coat from the rack.
“Why? You have plenty of opinions about my life.” She let him drape the heavy wool coat over her shoulders before she turned off the lights in her home office. “I don’t get to have opinions about yours?”
“No.”
“So we’re flying back with Oleg on Sunday night.” Sándor sat in the back with her as her human driver maneuvered the blocky Mercedes through Warsaw traffic, which was surprisingly busy for one in the morning. “Then meetings?”
“Not for me, but he’s in Odesa all week. There are some negotiations for the new agreement with the Georgian court, and then there will be a formal dinner at the end of next week to celebrate the new deal. Juliya has it all planned.”
Juliya seemed eager to prove her loyalty to her uncle since some of her siblings had turned on Oleg in Saint Petersburg. Not many, Oleg reminded her, but enough that he let his niece do what she felt like she needed to do to regain any confidence Oleg might have lost.
“Do you think after this banquet she’s going to feel less insecure?” Sándor asked.
Juliya and Rudov had hosted three gatherings for Oleg and Tatyana in the past six months in Rudov’s territory to celebrate “the unity of our great empire” and dispel any rumors about their role in Ivan’s betrayal.
“I think they feel secure enough in their own loyalty,” Tatyana said.
“But Ivan didn’t have to work very hard to convince some of Rudov’s men that they belonged with him.
Oleg has been very hands-off with his governors, and I think both Rudov and Oleg agree that a little more visibility would foster a better sense of unity. ”
“And you have to make your grand tour.”
She grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”
Once summer had passed and the kamvasa was over, Tatyana and Oleg would be spending six months performing a grand tour of the Kievan Rus so that the vampires of Oleg’s extended clan could meet their new knyaginya. It was a reason to celebrate after a very dark period.
“So many parties,” Sándor said. “So much caviar. So many dances.”
“I still don’t understand the caviar, but I do enjoy the dancing.”
She was also looking forward to a fresh round of chaugan games to rid her memory of the last one.
Sándor’s mind must have been following the same track. “You know, I’ve been riding more.”
For a wind vampire, Sándor was spending a surprising amount of time on horseback, and Tatyana had little doubt it was so he could hold his own among the chaugan players of the Kievan Rus.
“As have I,” she said.
“I’m going to be better prepared by the winter.”
“I am personally hoping that our chaugan matches in the future are only symbolic battles and not actual ones.”
“May the Kali hear your prayer,” Sándor said. “And how many Russians is Oleg bringing to the kamvasa?”
“Only six and only for a week.” She glanced at him. “Does it bother you?”
Sándor shrugged. “The Russians are very… silent. They watch everything, but they rarely speak.”
“Hmm,” Tatyana said. “It’s Pavel to begin with. He and some of his sons. I believe toward the end of the summer, Polina and her family will be joining us as well. Her partner is human, and they have two children.”
“Pavel is the strange one?”
“Not strange.” She smiled. “Well, maybe a little strange. They want to learn, I think. From us. They need to learn.”
“Learn what?” Sándor frowned.
She saw the gates beyond the trees and the distant lights of her mother’s farmhouse.
“I think they’re trying to learn how to be a real family.” She watched the pale-faced figures around the entrance nod at their driver before they dissolved back into the shadows. “They’ve never really been one before.”
Sándor said nothing as their car turned up the long alley of evergreen trees that bordered the narrow gravel drive.
“I suppose I can understand that,” Sándor said. “I will try to be generous, surati.”
“Just be Poshani.” Tatyana smiled as the car came to a stop and she felt her blood leap at the presence of her mate. “Just be Poshani, Sándor. That’s all they need to see.”
She walked into her mother’s house and smelled paprika and mushrooms, the faint scent of cabbage and lamb coming from the oven.
Her husband was sitting by the fire with Marko, who was whole and hearty again even if he was a little paler from not working in the sun all spring.
While Marie and her mother were cooking, Marko appeared to be completely drunk.
Oleg turned to her with a smile. “Did you really chop the head off a snowman?”
Sándor started to laugh.
“Volchitsa, I did not know this was a habit of yours.”