Tatyana looked at Sándor. “Really?”
“You cannot expect the Hazar not to gossip about that.” Sándor was trying to stop his smile with little success. “Noneof us have seen a vampire encased in snow like that. It was a brilliant use of your amnis.”
“I don’t need to kill Ivan myself,” Tatyana kept her voice low. She heard voices just outside her office door. “It simply needs to be done.”
Sándor glanced over his shoulder at the voices. He lowered his voice as well. “I do have another idea, but it may take some time.”
“Tell us,” Kezia said.
“Ivan hosts a card game every month with some of his lieutenants and favored business partners. Usually at one of his warehouses on the outskirts of Moscow. My informants tell me he is often alone there with very few guards.”
Tatyana frowned. “That sounds ideal, but it also sounds very private. Not easy to infiltrate.”
“As I said, it would take time.” Sándor nodded. “It would not be before the wedding. It may take months, but there are Hazar who can pose as Poshani who worked with Vano and were cast out. It could give them an in to Ivan’s organization, and with so many of the Muscovite Rus out of the city, now might be a good time to introduce them. People’s attention is shifted to Saint Petersburg.”
Kezia and Tatyana exchanged a look.
“It’s not a horrible idea,” Kezia said. “And we have waited five years already.”
Sándor continued. “Once these men are trusted and in a position where they can find out when Ivan will be at a particular warehouse, we can stage an attack. Conceal it to make it look like the Bashkir clan that attacked your mother’s house turned on Ivan. I had the Hazar collect the arrows from that night.”
“I like how you think,” Kezia said.
Sándor turned to her. “Terrin Tatyana?”
Tatyana nodded. “As long as Ivan is gone, I can be patient.”
“Good.” Sándor closed his notebook. “I have some Hazar in mind. I’ll contact them tonight.”
“Lady Tatyana.”
She didn’t look over her shoulder until she heard her husband’s voice even though her amnis had come to life as he approached.
Her heart thudded in her chest. Damn her blood. Their blood. The desire was immediate and overwhelming.
“Lord Oleg.”
She was standing in the middle of the concert hall again, elevated on a platform and facing a wall of mirrors with gilt trim while seamstresses worked on the hem of her golden wedding dress.
Diana rushed over. “Lord Oleg, how are you tonight?”
His smile was indulgent. “I am well, Diana. And you?”
Her cheeks pinked. “I am happy to be of service to Lady Tatyana, and I know that there is no tradition or custom prohibiting you from seeing the bride in her wedding dress before the ceremony; however, for her modesty?—”
“Her modesty?” Oleg stared at her in the mirror. “Ah, yes. I see.”
Tatyana realized her breasts were nearly hanging out of the dress as she had not donned the heavy silk tunic that would go under the outer dress.
It certainly wasn’t anything Oleg hadn’t seen before, but the entire dressmaking staff didn’t need to know that.
“Lord Oleg, perhaps I can meet you in your library in…” Tatyana looked down.
The head couturier sighed. “Give us at least half an hour more, my lady. We must make sure you can walk.”
“Of course.” She looked at Oleg in the mirror, who appeared to be staring at her breasts. “Forty minutes? Would that be convenient?”
“Convenient, no. Acceptable, yes.” With one last look, Oleg turned and walked out of the room.
