The nave was filled with vampires and humans in their finest clothing—governors, rivals, business partners, and a few old friends.
Most vampire weddings—especially formal ones—entertained the custom of the immortal guests attending in traditional clothing from the era when they were human. Most of Oleg’s family and druzhina were dressed in the bright colors and embroidered garments typical of their Varangian ancestors.
Lazlo had braided his beard, and Rudov wore his hair loose, threading bright colors into his shoulder-length locks so ribbons and gold trinkets fell down his back.
Ivan was dressed in a bright red coat with blue and gold flowers embroidered on the collar, though most of his men wore the traditional Muscovite uniform of loose pants, high boots, and heavy velvet kaftans trimmed with fur.
There were Poshani of all ranks in their finest and richest clothing, and foreign visitors in all manner of dress from modern to ancient.
“May he who by his presence in Cana of Galilee declared marriage to be honorable,” the priest chanted, “Christ our true God, through the prayers of his most pure Mother; of the holy, glorious…”
He began the final blessing, and Oleg raised Tatyana’s hand in his own as they turned to the assembled audience.
The choir sang out, and the priest continued to chant. “Grant, O Lord, peace, health, salvation, and visitation to the servants of God, Oleg and Tatyana, and preserve them for many years.”
Many years indeed.
The choir repeated the blessing three times, and then Oleg turned to his wife.
His true wife in front of the entire immortal world.
His mate in truth. His wife in public. His ally and his fiercest critic.
She was everything he wanted. Oleg would settle for nothing less.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Only a few more steps off this carpet, little wolf.”
“This dress,” she whispered. “I’ve already nearly tripped twice. Keep hold of my hand.”
“Always.” He led her across the carpet and through the crowd to the doors of the cathedral as the gathered assembly cheered and bells rang in the clear night sky.
A light snow was falling when they reached the outside of the church where more people were waiting. All of Oleg’s household were there, along with the rest of the Poshani guests who had come to Saint Petersburg for the celebration.
Flying Hazar disguised in black tossed flower petals over the couple as they walked to a covered carriage painted by Poshani artists and pulled by a team of Rudov’s horses. The combination of bright flowers and snowflakes lit by the warm lights of the cathedral made Oleg’s heart leap in his chest.
He turned to Tatyana and saw her gazing up at the flower-filled snowfall, her bright blue eyes taking it all in, the gold crown on her head sparkling like a crown of sunlight.
“This is magical!” she called to the Poshani guests who spread flowers in the snow and cheered for them. “Thank you, my dearest. My family. Thank you.”
Oleg heard calls of “Surati!” and “Tatyana le Tala!” as throngs of humans cheered for them with raucous applause. It was the exact opposite of the silence and solemnity of the cathedral and just as sacred.
He was supposed to be solemn. This was nothing but a show for the world. He knew that.
But he could not contain his smile when he saw the delight in Tatyana’s eyes.
She turned when they reached the carriage and met his smile with her own. “You’re beautiful, you know. When you smile.”
He wanted to kiss her so badly it was an ache in his chest, but he could not when there were so many others around them. “You heard the priest, Tatyana Vorona.” He lifted his chin as he helped her into the carriage. “You’re mine now. For eternity.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “I believe you are correct.”
Chapter 28
Tatyana
The wedding banquet of Tatyana le Tala and Oleg Sokolov was held in the heated tent of the Poshani, hosted by Radu le Basarab, brother of the bride and thus the expected host in Poshani tradition.
And in Kievan Rus tradition, the banquet would be followed by another rigorous chaugan match with probable bloodshed.
