“There is… something.” Mika frowned. “I cannot put my finger on it. I don’t suppose we could skip the chaugan match, could we? I’m sure Ivan’s feeling very satisfied at the moment.” He kept his voice to barely more than a whisper. “Tatyana’s men were killed. He’s spread rumors to distract from the rumors you started about him being out of favor.”
Oleg said, “The moment my brother feels like his little scheme is turning against him, he will become even morevindictive. I know. But I also know that Ivan does not move quickly. He’ll retaliate, but it will take time.”
“Very well.” Mika was still casting his eyes around the tent as if attackers were hiding in the shadows.
Sándor looked at Mika. “Our Hazar and Governor Lidik’s people have swept the field and the woods for threats,” he said. “We’ve found nothing, but we’ll keep watching.”
“Good,” Tatyana said. “Trust no one. Especially none of Ivan’s men.”
It wasn’thard to spot Ivan’s loyalists as they trooped out to the chaugan field after the banquet had come to an end. It was three in the morning, the dead of night, and all of Ivan’s clan were dressed in Truvor’s colors, wearing knee-length red kaftans with fur trim and a gold medallion shaped like a hawk’s head on their collar.
Sokholovs.
Tatyana watched them march through the snow, not unlike an army, from the back of her chaugan horse. All the vampire and human guests were in high spirits as they made their way across Rudov’s estate.
Her newly made riding habit was warm and comfortable, far more than her formal sarafan. The crown of the Kievan Rus was carefully stored and in Rumi’s possession, returning to Oleg’s palace under armed guard, and Tatyana wore a fur headband instead of citrine and pearls.
Mika’s cautious voice echoed in her mind as the massive immortal wedding party caravanned from the Poshani tent,across Rudov’s estate, and toward the playing field where torches were already lit.
There is… something.
She felt it too. There was tension in the air, but it was hard to distinguish tension from excitement. Rudov’s horses stamped and snorted in the frosty night, ready to break from their warming tents and leap onto the field.
Human servants were dragging wide grading rakes across the snowy field, and flags were flying to mark the perimeter.
Breaking tradition, there were fewer obstacles built into the field, allowing Tatyana a better view.
She felt her blood thrill when she caught sight of the nets.
Oleg pulled his mount alongside hers and grinned. “You like it.”
She couldn’t stop her smile. “I do.”
“You need to practice more with the ball, and then you will be a menace on the field like Ludmila and Mika.”
Mika was not playing that night, but Ludmila had taken a horse on the opposite team, wearing the red sash with Pavel and Ivan, Lazlo, Radu, and Radu’s oldest son. Tatyana’s team—wearing blue sashes—consisted of her and Oleg with Rudov, Sándor, Kezia, and Lev rounding out their riders.
Juliya, Rudov’s daughter, wore the white sash of the referee, and she galloped around the perimeter of the field with her father’s green-and-red flag, riling the crowd up, leading war chants, and urging on the drummers until the elemental energy surging in the air was enough to have Tatyana’s fangs falling.
There was a deep stirring in her blood. She wanted to swing an axe. She wanted to smell blood. It was little surprise that Truvor had taught his sons this game when it stirred such martial instincts.
Oleg was pulling on his gloves, eyeing the crowd as he prepared to take to the field.
Tatyana’s gaze kept darting between Ivan and Pavel’s jovial laughter, the Hazar buzzing around the open field, and Sándor’s grim expression as he readied his mount at the far end of the playing line.
The line between sport and outright war had never felt thinner.
She nudged her mount over to Oleg’s. “Am I imagining?—”
“No.” His voice was terse.
“What do we do?”
He cocked his head and looked at her; his fangs were also extended. “We play.”
The horses stamped on the sidelines. The red leather pul was waiting in the center of the field. The crowd of humans and vampires roared with anticipation.
Juliya raised her father’s flag, lifted a large silver bell, and rang it.
