Page 142 of Crimson Oath
Oleg let her whisper linger in his head as Mika helped him dress for the meeting with Radu that was about to take place. He was wearing the same suit he’d worn when he took a walk with Tatyana, but the formal cape he donned to meet Radu was far more elaborate and—though she had joked about it—he did have a crown, though it was not a traditional piece of finery.
Mika lifted the heavy cape trimmed in ermine and draped it over Oleg’s shoulders. “Remember, the first point of this meeting is to get a verbal pledge from Radu that he is still an ally and get assurances that he willnotbe surrendering a goblet.”
“And you’re still confident that Radu is ignorant about Vano’s actions?”
“You’ll have to make that judgment when you see him, but all the information that Polina, Juliya, and I can find says that Vano is in this alone with Ivan.”
“And you have the statement from Danior?”
Mika held up a tablet encased in plastic. “I do.”
Oleg walked to the bathroom, and the moment he looked through the door, he was back in Tatyana’s trailer, fucking her against the wall of the shower as he barely held on to control.
“Whatever you’re thinking about right now,” Mika muttered, “stop.”
“Tatyana is not going to come back to work for me.”
“Are you seriously thinking about the woman right now?” Mika snapped. “We’re talking about the security of the empire, and you?—”
“I’m talking about a woman who is not only going to be very important tomyfuture but also the future of our territory.” Oleg turned and glared at his boyar. “Be very careful what you say right now.”
Mika snapped his mouth shut; then, after a long moment of silence, he carefully said, “Then I suggest you focus on securing that territory, reinforcing the power of an ally, and rooting out the snake that has been living in the grass.”
“Fine.” Oleg walked into the bathroom, and Mika handed him an elaborately carved wooden box. He opened it and saw Truvor’s crown sitting on a bed of red velvet.
Mika glanced at the old thing. “It’s impossible to look at it and not see his helmet.”
“I know; that’s the point.”
Oleg had hammered the circlet from the twisted remains of the iron helmet Truvor kept hanging on his fortress wall. The metal had been crusted with human blood, and the ridge of osprey feathers was broken and battered.
It was hideous, yet Truvor had kept that thing and all of his armor hanging on the wall of the castle where he’d brutalized his army and especially his offspring.
After Truvor and all his loyalists were dead, Oleg had marched into the fortress’s massive throne room and burned everything his sire had touched. To this day, the seams between the stones were filled with black ash from his fire.
He’d ripped Truvor’s helmet from the wall, and theparts that hadn’t burned he’d fashioned with his bare hands into a crude crown that he’d shoved onto his forehead when it was still red-hot. The scar the crown left was so severe he’d worn it for a century.
Every brother who faced him. Every enemy he killed. The last thing they saw was the twisted remnants of Truvor’s helmet burned into Oleg’s forehead.
Eventually he’d hammered something decent-looking from it, then coated the circlet in gold and set a ruby in the center where the crown rested on his forehead, a reminder of the blood that had forged the immortal Kievan Rus and the blood that it took to hold it.
Oleg lifted the crown and put it on his head. It wasn’t beautiful, and it was heavy.
The crown hadn’t been made for beauty. It had always been meant to send a message.
“Radu is a friend,” Mika reminded him. “Remember that. He’s an ally, but he’s going to resist you telling him what to do. The Poshani are fiercely independent.”
“He’s ready to move on,” Oleg said. “He’s been serving for centuries. I think he wants a break.”
“And you’re asking him to commit to another century,” Mika said. “I know.”
“We know.” Oleg stared at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. What would she think of this bloody crown? Would she be willing to stand next to the man who wore it?
She’d taken him as a lover. Even confided in him. There was trust growing between them, and their blood was mingled. But would Tatyana Vorona—so new to immortal life—be willing to publicly stand with a vampire known to the immortal world as one of its most brutal leaders?
Oleg turned to leave the bathroom, and Mika shut the door behind him.
“Oleg Sokolov,Varangian of Gardariki and Knyaz of the Kievan Rus.”
