Page 162 of Crimson Oath
Oleg chuckled. “Is that so?”
“Pavel.”
He nodded slowly. “Fascinating. Anyone else?”
“Rudov.” Vano cocked his head. “Am I lying?”
“Oh yes,” Oleg said. “And maybe no.”
“She will never choose to return to you now,” Vano said. “Your little bookkeeper belongs more to me than you now.”
“Is that so?” The man had limited time on the earth—Oleg would let him talk nonsense.
“I will be ashes, but she will still belong more to me than to you because my blood” —Vano lunged forward, rattling his chains— “myblood still runs through this clan, and she is now its servant. How does that feel, Oleg Sokolov? To know that your blood will serve mine?”
“An interesting perspective.” Oleg reached into his right boot, grabbed a dagger, and plunged it into Vano’s leg, making sure to miss any vital arteries.
The man howled, and Oleg looked up at the three terrin.
“Sincere apologies,” Oleg said. “My hand slipped.”
Kezia linked her arm in Tatyana’s and watched Vano raging withall the sympathy of a lion observing an antelope. “I hate when that happens.”
“Moisture in the air,” Radu muttered. “It’s foggy tonight.”
Tatyana was staring at Vano, and Oleg could see that what she’d heard disturbed her.
Oleg was not disturbed. “Vano.” He pulled out the knife and cleaned it on the man’s wool trouser leg. “As much as you would like me to kill you before you have to feel your skin peeling and burning at dawn, I am not going to interfere.”
“You’ll die.” Vano laughed. “Your brothers will kill you soon. Your precious empire is cracking, old man. You were never strong enough to hold it.”
Oleg put the dagger back into the sheath in his boot and stood. “Goodbye, Vano. I would say farewell, but that is not your future. You will fare very badly.”
He turned, inclined his head to Radu, Kezia, and finally Tatyana.
Then Oleg left Vano to his fate.
They sat in her bed,propped against the headboard, Tatyana’s head on his shoulder as he sketched in a notebook he’d found on the desk.
“There, see?” He flicked the pencil over the paper. “There must be a wolf in the center.”
She laughed a little bit. “Why?”
“Because you are my little wolf.” Oleg kissed her forehead. “And a wolf on your herald symbolizes bravery and loyalty, so it is perfect for you.”
Tatyana grew very quiet, but Oleg allowed her to ruminate. There was not much he could do for her now other than design something worthy of the house and line she would build.
“I didn’t want this,” she whispered.
“I know.” He kept sketching. Two axes behind the wolf. A dove with open wings at the top.
“What we were?—”
“We still are.” Oleg’s pencil paused on the page. “Do you think that your position makes you any less attractive to me? I told you, milaya, I enjoy your fangs.” He sketched the wolf’s muzzle and added comically large fangs coming down from its jaw. “See?”
Tatyana laughed. “No, you can’t do that.”
“Why not?” He pretended to bite her hand when she reached for the paper. “Are you an artist? No. You must trust my genius.”
