Page 181 of Stolen Empire
There is a small round of applause before Rolan clears his throat.
"And to Artemy Morozov, a tactician worthy of his bloodline and Ekaterina Morozova, who stood in the fire and proved that courage flows through every generation of her family."
The crowd erupts in approval, soldiers from both families raising their glasses.
The toast is genuine enough, but I understand the layers beneath it.
Rolan is cementing the alliance publicly, making it clear to anyone watching that the Vetrovs stand with the Morozovs.
This isn't just a military partnership.
We're family now.
I scan the crowd until I find Katya standing with Artemy, her hand resting on his arm.
Her mother stands nearby, looking overwhelmed by the spectacle surrounding her.
Anzhela has been in Moscow for only a few days, though she promises to move here permanently once her new husband finds work.
And it's a good thing to see the three of them together at last.
Katya has missed her more than she'll admit to anyone but me.
I make my way through the crowd, nodding to soldiers I recognize, until I reach Katya's mother.
She sees me approaching and straightens, her hands folding nervously in front of her.
She's fragile in a way that Katya isn't, and maybe that's what Lyovik loved about her—the gentleness and softness.
But looking at her face, I can see where Katya's strength originates.
There is iron beneath the softness.
"Anzhela," I say bowing at the shoulder.
"I wanted to speak with you."
"Of course."
She glances at Katya, who's still occupied with Artemy's conversation.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all."
I gesture toward a quieter section of the pavilion, away from the main crowd.
She follows, and I can feel her anxiety growing with each step.
"I wanted to ask you something."
She stops walking, her entire body going tense.
"You're sending us away. You want Katya to leave Moscow."
"No."
I chuckle warmly.
