Chapter 33
Oleg
“Excellent work, Elek.” Oleg patted the young man’s shoulder. “Very even. Good placement between your tesserae. That’s very good.”
The dark-eyed boy looked up at Oleg. “When I’m finished, I’m going to put it on my mother’s wagon,” he said. “Sunflowers are her favorite.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. When you know where you want it to go, I can show you how to fix it to the wall.”
Oleg was teaching some of the young Poshani how to make mosaics with broken tiles and shards of dishes.
They also used smooth stones and any little pieces they could find around the kamvasa.
They were fixing the small mosaic squares to loose burlap netting that could then be placed on a wall or a table or whatever the children wanted.
The degree of skill was… highly variable. But the children seemed to enjoy it.
One of the girls wanted to make a lamp like she’d seen online, so Oleg had found some glass for her and smoothed the edges so she could bring her vision to life.
“Nano Oleg.” Another child ran up to him. “Can you light my lantern please?”
“Of course.” He snapped his fingers, and the little boy’s face lit up.
“Thank you!”
There were many things he found peaceful about being among the Poshani clans during the summer kamvasa, but the most amusing one was the sudden popularity he had immediately garnered among the little ones in the caravan.
He was a walking ladder to reach tall things. A fire starter. And an ally in all sorts of dangerous pursuits their parents would not approve of.
Oleg had learned quickly that Poshani children took advantage of the lax rules and late bedtimes during the kamvasa, particularly regarding tree climbing and anything involving physical danger.
It was no wonder so many of them grew up to be fearless warriors.
Though admittedly, it was rare for any of the children to learn a lesson regarding their dangerous pursuits because there was always a Hazar watching to make sure they made it to the ground, and often the boldest children took advantage of that just to garner a quick flight with a vampire aunt “Bibi” or uncle “Nano.”
He was honored when the little ones started calling him Nano, and he enjoyed being nothing like an authority figure for the first time in centuries.
No, his wife was the authority here.
Oleg was surprised and delighted how easily he was able to relax among Tatyana’s family where he had little power and almost zero expectations.
He happily chatted with kamvasa guests—especially those of dubious reputation whom his wife dreaded—he coordinated the movements of the rotating druzhina who came with him—never more than four at a time—and occasionally he would welcome guests from his own clan who had been graciously invited.
“Nano Oleg,” a voice called.
He turned and saw Dessie, Rumi’s oldest child, waving at him. He stood and turned to the children. “Do any of you have any further questions before I leave you to your work?”
“No, sir!”
“I’m fine.”
Cheerful voices chirped back at him, and most of the children seemed happy in their projects, so Oleg left them near the kitchen wagons and walked over to Dessie.
“Does Terrin Tatyana need my assistance?”
Assistance? Always.
Authority? Blessedly none.
“No, she just wanted me to let you know that your daughter and her family have arrived in the transport and Radu is showing them to their caravan right now.”
“Can you show me where it is?”
Dessie nodded and took his hand without hesitation.
Oleg closed his fingers around the child’s trusting hand and walked with her through the camp, waving at the familiar faces and smiling at anyone who looked at him with suspicion.
It wasn’t all mosaic classes, tree climbing, and parties.
He was also in this camp for the month so he could be seen meeting with Poshani business owners to strike deals in Ivan’s former territory, showing proper deference to Tatyana, Radu, and Kezia and providing copious amounts of wine, beer, and caviar for the weekly banquets.
In short, among the Poshani, Oleg was the rich, friendly uncle who bought the wine for the party. It was a delightful change from his usual role in life.
“Papa Oleg!”
He heard Natalya’s voice before he saw her. She was running through the crowds of Poshani who were dragging carpets out for the banquet, concert, and dancing in the meadow that night.
“My little Tati.” He smiled and snatched the little girl up, swinging her onto his shoulder so she could perch there like a parrot. It was one of her favorite activities. “Are you happy to be here?”
“Yes!”
“And have you been a good girl lately for your mama and papa?”
“No!”
He patted her leg. “Good.”
Natalya’s twin sister Hanna, always the quieter of the two, was hanging around her father’s legs, peeking out at all the activity. Oleg winked at her and saw her giggle and hide her face.
“Polina.” He reached over and gave his daughter a one-armed hug and a kiss on the forehead.
“What is this place?” His daughter’s eyes were wide. “I have no idea where we are, and they took our phones.”
Her partner Alexi nodded. “Good. That’s good. Maybe we should stay a month.” He lifted Hanna into his arms and stuck his hand out for Oleg to shake. “Oleg, it’s good to see you.”
“Likewise,” he said. “Is your caravan comfortable?”
“It’s huge,” Polina said. “And is this place really as secure as Tanya says?”
Again with his entire family calling his wife by her nickname when he was not allowed.
“It is.” He set Natalya down, but she kept her hands in his, hanging by her arms as Oleg swung her back and forth.
“There are children everywhere, so the Hazar always have their eyes open at night, and there are darigan guarding the camp during the day. There’s no need to worry if they run off. They won’t get lost.”
“Come on.” Natalya ran over, grabbed Hanna’s hand, and started toward a group of children in the distance who were playing some kind of ball game in the middle of the meadow.
Alexi nearly called after them, but then he looked at Oleg. “You’re not worried?”
Usually Oleg was the wildly overprotective one. “I am not worried.”
Polina was still standing with military posture, her eyes fixed on her children as they ran and played with the others. “I swear to God, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this relaxed, Papa. It’s unnerving.”
If it were Mika, there would have been a crack about sex, but Alexi and Polina were the parents of small children. They were oddly conservative these days.
Oleg felt his mate approaching and looked over his shoulder. “There she is.”
Tatyana Vorona, Tatyana le Tala of the Poshani, bearer of the ruby goblet and knyaginya of the Kievan Rus, walked through the gathering of wagons, surrounded by her people.
There was Rumi at her side, as always, a notebook in hand, and Sándor standing tall behind her, his eyes sweeping the crowded meadow with silent watchfulness.
There was also an eager young man with reddish-brown hair speaking quickly and gesturing with his hands, and two children who ran up and handed Tatyana handfuls of dandelions before they darted away.
The dandelions made her smile.
She looked up, caught his eye, and a smile spread across her face.
There you are, my wife. My blood. The better half of my soul.
She was his peace and the reward he did not deserve.
“Oleg.” She spoke his name like a blessing, holding out her hands. He took them, raised them to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles before she greeted his family.
“Polina and Alexi.” Tatyana smiled. “You are so welcome. Are the girls—”
“Already playing.” Oleg pointed to the meadow and tucked her hand under his arm. “I’m sure they will have a dozen new friends by midnight.”
“I’m sure they will,” Tatyana said. “New children will be the talk of the entire camp.”
“Thank you for inviting us,” Alexi said. “This place seems very special.”
“I’m glad you were able to come.” She pointed to the blankets. “There will be a concert as soon as everything is set up. Please make yourselves at home and let me know if you need anything at all.”
Rumi stepped forward. “I’m Rumi, Terrin Tatyana’s personal assistant, and if you cannot find her for any reason, simply ask for me and one of the darigan will always be able to assist you.”
Polina was still a little stiff, but she nodded at Rumi with a tight smile. “Thank you.”
“Ten minutes.” Tatyana stood on her toes and whispered, “Ten minutes and I will be free.” She kissed his cheek and then started off again, responding to someone else who was calling her name.
“She’s busy here,” Polina said.
“Yes.” He watched her go. “But we have time.”
He sat back on a tufted sofa covered in blankets and furs, his arm stretched across the back as Tatyana leaned into his side.
“What a long night,” she whispered.
He kissed the top of her head. “Nearly over, and then I do not have to share you.”
“Do you miss when you could simply hide in my caravan and steal all my time?”
He smiled. “Perhaps. But that was before you were terrin.”
They watched the musicians and dancers perform on the wooden stage that had been set up at the base of a small, sloping hill. Just outside the stage lights, he saw young girls mimicking the dancers on the stage, practicing the traditional steps they would likely perform on their own someday.
Hanna and Natalya ran over to their sofa, climbed onto their laps, and watched the music for what must have been three whole minutes before the little girls grew impatient and ran off again.
“They’re delightful,” Tatyana whispered. “And terrible.”
“Yes. Both.” He glanced at her in the darkness. “Do you want children?”
She was young. She’d never had a chance for human children. But like Polina and Alexi, they could adopt.
She blew out a gust of breath. “What are you talking about? We have children.” She gestured to the crowd. “So many of them.”
Oleg smiled and leaned his cheek on her head. “Perhaps in another century.”
“Or two.”
A singer took to the stage to the sound of applause and cheers of encouragement. Oleg glanced at Polina, watching his daughter take it all in.
The groups of human and vampire families sitting on blankets around the stage.
The guests sitting at the top of the hill, enjoying the warm summer breeze at night.
Children running this way and that, not a single one chided for being too loud or too rowdy. Abundant food and drink.
Abundant life.
“She needs to understand this,” he murmured.
“Polina?”
Oleg nodded.
Tatyana whispered, “She is your heir.”
“Someday.” He nodded. “When the Kievan Rus is more than just a group of soldiers who survived.”
“You’re already more than that.”
Oleg shrugged. “We are getting there.” He looked down at her.
“Have you heard the tale of Tatyana le Tala, the brave and beautiful Poshani terrin who was such a mighty warrior that her courage made the king of the Russian vampires fall in love with her? The children were telling me that one tonight.”
She smiled. “I have, but have you heard the story of the firebird and the wolf? The firebird glowed so brightly the wolf could not resist his light, not even when it singed her fur.”
He felt his heart stumble. “I haven’t heard this tale. How does it end?”
“It doesn’t.” She rested her head on his chest. “The firebird reminded the wolf that she was alive and that she had fangs. And the wolf reminded the firebird that his fire was for warmth and not only destruction.”
He could feel the peace in her blood because that same peace flowed through his own veins. “Tatyana Vorona, I do not deserve you.”
“Yes, you do.” Tatyana looked up and met his eyes.
She had never looked away.
“For better or worse,” she whispered, “we deserve each other.”