“Humans always forget their history,” Mika said. “It has always been so. They remember grudges but not their history.”
“Hmm.” He kept glancing at Tatyana, whose attention was being occupied by Kezia. The two Poshani terrin, dark Kezia with her fiery brown eyes and olive skin and pale Tatyana with her ice-blue eyes, as different as two women could be but so clearly in tune with each other.
It pleased Oleg to see it.
“Do you think Kezia is trying to convince her to not dance with me?” Oleg asked.
“Probably.” Mika’s voice was grudging. “But at this point?—”
“I wrote my name at the top of her dance card at the beginning of the week when she was… occupied.” Oleg kept his voice low, conscious of the many prying ears around them. “Kezia has no say in the matter.”
Dance cards were still popular among vampires and were often used as bargaining chips. Though their use in human circles was obsolete, vampires loved the formality.
Oleg saw the small jeweled book hanging at Tatyana’s wrist and knew his status was secure.
“I wrote your name in two others,” Mika said. “I negotiated your second dance with Alina as a social buffer after Tatyana.”
Oleg nodded. “Wise.”
“Your next two dances are with Takhmina Rasulova and the Austrian woman.”
He frowned. “Karoline?”
“No, the other one. Karoline was a little too eager. Her sire requested that you dance with Marina Starhemberg.”
“Her second daughter?”
Mika nodded. “I thought twice about it, but I believe Gisele is positioning Marina to be her second. A dance with you would be a sign of her position over her sister.”
Gisele Starhemberg was a very old immortal duchess from an even older house who had taken over after her own sire disappeared from public life with little fanfare. The Austrianleader was frank, efficient, and forward thinking. Oleg wouldn’t mind a greater alliance with her.
“A wise move,” he told Mika. “Any other commitments?”
“No, Knyaz.” Mika patted Oleg’s shoulder. “The rest of them, you will have to fend off yourself.”
Oleg chuckled. “Ah yes, the battlefield of the ballroom. More treacherous than any other field and just as riddled with traps.”
His brother Pavel, irritable as always but mellowed by the delightful music, walked over to join them. “Ivan has arrived outside.”
“Of course he is late,” Oleg said. “How impolite.”
Oleg’s least favorite brother made his entrance into the ballroom accompanied by the crashing sound of cymbals as the orchestra finished their set and the vampires watching the dancers all began to clap.
His brother was dressed in jet-black pants and a blood-red kaftan, the colors of Truvor the Red. With each step, Ivan sent out a faint echo of amnis on the cold marble floor, a showy display of elemental power since Ivan’s affinity was for stone and rock.
Many of the vampires in attendance turned to look, and all of them noticed him.
Mika whispered, “That arrogant?—”
“Brother.” Oleg interrupted Mika before someone overheard him. There were too many watching. Oleg turned to Ivan and lifted his chin, daring his brother to ignore the summons.
Wisely, Ivan did not. He walked over in full view of the assembly and bowed deeply to Oleg.
Mika was at his right hand, and Pavel stood on his left side.
“Knyaz,” Ivan said. “Greetings on this festive night.”
Ivan had brought four vampires with him, pushing the guest list as Oleg had known he would.
