Page 98 of Vendetta Crown

"What about you?" I ask, eager to keep this peaceful moment alive. "Why did your parents name you Ruslan? Is there a story behind it?"

His hands settle on my waist, turning me so we're facing each other fully. The moonlight streaming through the window catches the gold in his eyes.

"My father believed names carry power," he explains. "In our family, we don't just pick names we like. We choose names with history, names that tell a story."

I lean into him slightly. "And what story does Ruslan tell?"

"It's from an old Russian poem—'Ruslan and Ludmila.' Ruslan was a warrior who battled sorcerers and monsters to save his beloved." His thumb traces circles against my hip. "My father thought it fitting for his son to be named after a literary hero. A way to remind me I must always be willing to fight for what's mine."

"Did your mother have any say in it?" I ask.

Something flickers across his face—a softer emotion I rarely see. "She did. My mother loved the poem too, but for different reasons. She told me once that she chose it because in the story, Ruslan's strength came from his heart, not just his sword."

I can't help but smile at the tenderness of his story as I place my hand over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath my palm. "She's not wrong about that."

The warrior fighting for his beloved.

It feels like us, in a way.

"We could name her Ludmila," I offer, placing my hand over his where it rests on my belly. "Our own little warrior princess."

Ruslan's expression shifts immediately. His nose wrinkles and his eyebrows draw together.

"Ludmila?" He sounds almost horrified. "That's an oldbabushkaname. I can already see her wearing a headscarf and complaining about her arthritis at age five."

I burst out laughing. "It can't be that bad!"

"It is. Trust me." He shakes his head firmly. "And also, I don't want to keep looking backwards to the past,zarechka. That's not what we're doing here."

His hand slides around to my lower back, drawing me closer.

"Everything we're fighting for. This war against Semyon. The documentary exposing Kristofer. Even taking control of theVori. It's all about breaking free from the past." His voice grows more passionate as he speaks. "The past is worth remembering, yes, but the past cannot be changed no matter how much we want to change it. The only thing that matters is the future."

I lean into his touch, understanding flowing between us.

"Our children deserve names that helps them look forward," he continues. "Names that don't carry the heavy weight of what came before."

"But they should still have one Russian name, right?" I ask, watching his face carefully. "At least one of them should carry that part of their heritage."

Ruslan nods, thoughtful now. "Yes. One Russian name, but something modern. Something strong and hopeful."

I smile now, feeling a temporary moment of peace.

"I don't know any Russian names," I confide, leaning into Ruslan's warmth. "What would you suggest?"

Ruslan's hand continues its gentle path across my belly, his touch reverent against the stretched fabric of my dress. The twins respond with another kick, as if they can feel their father's presence.

"Before I suggest any," he says thoughtfully. "What qualities would you want our children to have? What kind of people do you want them to grow into?"

It's such a profound question that I have to pause.

I close my eyes, trying to imagine our children years from now. A boy and a girl with Ruslan's golden eyes perhaps, or maybe my hazel ones.

What do I want for them in this complicated world we're bringing them into?

"I want them to be brave," I say finally, opening my eyes to meet Ruslan's gaze. "Not fearless, because fear can be important sometimes, but brave enough to face what scares them."

Ruslan nods, encouraging me to continue.

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