Empress of Poisons ARC

by Bree Porter

  Nikolai didn’t notice my hesitation and darted into the room, his laughter rising as high as the bookshelves. “Mama! Mama! Come find meeeee!”

  I went to play when a little figure caught my eye. In the shadows, tucked beneath a single golden lamp, a child was stretched out on his belly, busy reading.

  “Anton?”

  Now, at five years old, Anton was a dead replica of his father. His inky black hair was cut short, errant strands sticking up from odd places. Electric blue eyes peered at me from between long dark lashes and pearly-white skin. Beneath his eyes, huge dark purple bags spread, making him look much older than he was.

  I crouched down, feeling my heart tighten in my chest. “Anton, how big you’ve gotten.”

  Anton’s voice was quiet. “Hello, Auntie Lena.”

  “Hello, Anton.”

  He smiled faintly.

  I gestured to the book. “A good read?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  A loud crash sounded from the back of the library.

  Immediately, I followed the sound, skidding to a halt when I found Nikolai sitting on a pile of books, his entire form rumbling with laughter.

  “Nikolai Tarkhanov!” I dragged him off the pile. “You could’ve hurt yourself!” I brushed the soot from his blond locks.

  Anton came up behind me, face wary as he took in the newest addition to the household.

  “Nikolai meet Anton, Anton meet Nikolai.”

  The two young boys took each other in. Nikolai grinned and said hello, whereas Anton’s sullen face did not move. My son looked at me, questions in his eyes.

  "Anton is Dmitri's son. You know Dmitri, wild boy."

  "Baba?"

  "Yes, the one who was holding Babushka." I smiled at Anton. He was listening, interested, but hadn't revealed anything on his face. "I knew Anton when he was your age."

  Anton rubbed his cheeks. "I'm going to go and read." His voice was clear and formal, if not a little quiet. He left without another word.

  My son didn't note the strangeness to the meeting. Instead, he tried to climb back up the pile of books. His lack of self-awareness worried me constantly, even if I knew he got his more adventurous side from me. Who could I blame when I saw the exact same tendencies in myself?

  Niko and I found some books he was interested in for bedtime stories. He liked trying to scale the shelves and looking at the pretty pictures inside some of the novels. He didn't have my appreciate for knowledge and old artefacts, but he didn't complain about how long I spent browsing. He was used to it by now.

  I thought our scheme to miss the second dinner had succeeded until I turned and spotted Konstantin at the open mouth of the shelves.

  He stood between the books, hands in pockets and light shining behind him. When he moved his head, the blonde of his hair caught the light and sparkled like gold amongst the dusty library.

  "It is time for dinner," he said. So polite, so formal. I almost threw a book at him.

  "Nikolai and I aren't hungry."

  Nikolai tugged on my leg. "I am hungry, Mama."

  When he was sixteen and trying to get me to lie his way out of a science test, I was going to remember this.

  Konstantin smiled. "Are you, Nikolai? Come downstairs then and have some dinner."

  My son began toddling towards Kon, but I caught his hand. "Niko and I will grab something later."

  "No, noo." Nikolai peered up at me, green eyes wide and lip quivering. "Mama, I'm hungry now."

  Konstantin's grin was a flash of teeth. He knew he had won, and he knew I had lost.

  We ended up going to dinner, even if I spent most of the meal praying for it to be over.

  Nikolai sat at the end of the table with Evva, the two of them being entertained by Danika and Roman. Whenever Roman and Danika stopped their little show to fight, both toddlers fell into a storm of giggles.

  I, unfortunately, was shoved to the adult side of the table. Where there was no chicken nuggets and you had to eat with a knife and fork. Konstantin sat in his usual seat as head of the table, ruling over us all. The entire two hours we sat there; he didn’t acknowledge me once. I could’ve been another piece of dining room furniture to him. Hell, I probably was.

  “Where’s Anton?” I murmured to Roksana during the night.

  Her features tightened. “I asked him to join us but he declined.”

  “How is he?” The little sullen boy I had seen in the library was not the charming child I remembered.

  It was Dmitri who said, “He is traumatised. He killed his sister and his mother is a psychopath.”

  The table fell silent. Nothing else was said on the topic.

  I didn’t appreciate the domesticity, the little ‘Elena, pass the potatoes’ or ‘More wine?’ Three years had passed, three agonizing years, and everyone seemed content to act like they had never happened.

  That wasn't what stirred up my temper, however. It was Konstantin.

  I didn't like being ignored. He knew that. He knew the silent treatment got under my skin.

  Don't let him get to you, a rational voice said in my mind.

  It was too late. Konstantin had already gotten to me. I felt his entire presence beneath my skin, knotted in my hair and under my nails. Whenever he spoke, every cell inside my body seemed to ignite with electricity, and whenever he passed a platter over me, my lungs constricted painfully.

  I kept praying Nikolai would spill something or get bored, so I had an excuse to leave. Kids, I would say in that bothered but relieved voice as I dragged the toddler out. What can you do?

  My son, instead, was behaving himself. The one time I needed him to be trouble and he was too entertained by Roman to come up with any schemes.

  I couldn't find it in myself to be mad as I watched his shining face. His eyes were wide as Roman folded a napkin into a strange bird-like shape, and his giggles were infectious when Danika pretended the napkin could fly.

  The love I had for my son was so prominent, was so painful and gratifying, that if a doctor ever opened me up, he would see Nikolai's name written over the valves and aorta of my heart.

  I wonder what other names they would find...

  My eyes darted to Konstantin. He was leaning back in his chair, nursing his glass of vodka and listening patiently to something Roksana was explaining to him. From the airy movements of her hands and shine to her expression, she had to be talking about ballet.

  Konstantin favoured Roksana as a conversation partner during dinner. He barely spoke to Artyom, and Dmitri was too miserable to try and drag into small talk. Every now and then he would talk to Roman or Danika, but other than that, he sat silently.

  The dynamic was very different to the dinners we had shared three years ago.

  I think that's why a part of me had been trying to avoid eating with them. I didn't want to see how much they had changed, what had gone on without me there to witness. I didn't want to see their happiness without me...and I also didn't want to see the sadness that my absence had wrought.

  I didn't want to see this new man Konstantin had become.

  When dinner came to its inevitable end, I swept Niko from his chair by his armpits and disappeared into the maze of hallways. He spoke at length about Roman, Danika and Evva during his bedtime routine–I could barely get a word in.

  As we settled beneath the covers, he asked, “Can we stay?”

  The question turned me to stone.

  “Mama?” He prompted.

  “You don’t want to go home?”

  Nikolai yawned. “No, no. Stay–” Another yawn “–stay here…”

  “Our home is waiting for us, baby.” I whispered. “We can’t stay here.”

  “Yes.” There was a flash of toddler refusal on his face as he replied. “Yes, Mama.”

  I stroked his blond hair, the colour proof of the Tarkhanov blood running through his veins. Proof of the kingdom he set to inherit. “Go to sleep, my wild boy.”
/>
  Nikolai wanted to argue more but he fell asleep quickly. His little snores soon filled the room, the sound pairing with the soft murmur of voices downstairs and creaking of the house as it settled down into sleep.

  My mind refused to settle, twisting with so many thoughts and words and fears that I felt a scream begin to form deep in my throat. Konstantin’s voice filled my head on repeat.

  Nikolai is a Tarkhanov. He is my heir.

  The rest of his life will be here. With his family, with his father.

  A possessiveness that I didn’t even understand swept over me at the thought of sharing Nikolai. He was my son, my baby. I had birthed, fed and bathed him without help from anyone. Who was Konstantin to demand I hand him over on a silver platter?

  The sane part of me knew that wasn’t what Konstantin had meant. But how did I know the meaning behind Konstantin’s words? I hardly knew the man anymore. From two people who had known the darkness parts of each other’s souls, we were now strangers.

  Hours later, I heard footsteps, followed by the sound of a door closing. I could picture Konstantin with such precision and accuracy in my mind’s eye that it was almost like I was watching him. I could see him stripping off his blazer, the cords of muscles as he unbuttoned his shirt and the sound of his belt buckle–

  Nikolai sneezed.

  The sound made me flinch. I stroked my son’s hair and settled him back into his dreams. It was for the best my son had interrupted my thoughts. They had been heading down an addictive and dangerous path.

  Yearning.

  The eight-letter word circled around my mind and embedded itself into my temporal lobe.

  I tried to ignore it, but I still felt around in the dark for a pen. I didn’t feel relief until the word was inked on my skin.

  I had almost drifted into sleep when Konstantin’s voice sounded from beyond the walls, rumbling through the plaster. “If she has contacts on the inside, I want to fucking know who they are!”

  My eyes snapped open. Beside me, Nikolai stirred.

  If Konstantin woke up my son…

  I slipped out of bed, slid on a sweater and left the room. His shouting was coming from the study.

  I didn't knock, didn't announce myself. Instead, I whipped open the door and hissed, "You're going to wake up the baby!"

  Konstantin was standing in the middle of room, a towering figure of adamant in the small space. Rage seemed to cling to every inch of him, including his dark eyes that snapped to me as I entered. I didn't lighten his mood.

  "You're going to wake Nikolai!" I repeated.

  He drew the phone down and said in a cold formal tone, "My apologies."

  We stared at each other across the space, alone and hidden by night. No one would walk in, no one would interrupt us. If I wanted to go head-to-head with Konstantin, here was my chance. The battlefield lay before me...should I pick up a weapon?

  Konstantin struck first. "I’m not used to having a child so close.” His tone implied that was a direct consequence of my actions. “I forget myself.”

  “You know now.” My voice will the same amount of acid as his own; I just wasn’t as good as hiding it beneath feigned manners.

  “Is that all?”

  Irritation rose sharply within me.

  It was funny. When Thaddeo had dismissed me and left me to my own devices, I had been relieved. I had happily seen myself out and never been filled with rage. After all, there had a been a myriad of other things I would rather do than tend to my husband.

  But when Konstantin tried to dismiss me?

  My reaction wasn’t nearly as palatable.

  I pointed to his phone. “Are you going to keep yelling? The walls are thin.”

  “I’m aware.” His lips briefly curled back. “I’m dealing with much more than your displeasure right now, Elena.”

  “I’ll be more than displeased if you wake up Nikolai.”

  Konstantin’s grip on his phone tightened but he made an admirable effort trying to sound controlled. I felt like a kid with a stick…and Konstantin was the hibernating bear. “

  “You have made your point, Elena, in your usual demanding way."

  I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why are you yelling anyway?"

  Something gleamed in his eyes, like he knew I wouldn't be able to control my curiosity. He lifted up his phone, the prop to his story. "One of my labs was attacked and millions of dollars of equipment was destroyed."

  My stomach dropped.

  "Was it her?"

  I didn't need to specific whom I meant. There was only one her these days.

  "We think so." Konstantin's eyes roamed over me, seeing things I wanted desperately to hide. "The merchandise was untouched but two FBI agents were lurking outside."

  "Did they see you?" The question tore from me before I could stop it.

  "We had a little chat but there's no need to worry, Elena." He seemed so smug, so amused, that I had shown my horror at him being caught. "We came to a mutual understanding that benefitted both parties."

  "I'm sure."

  A tornado of thoughts had begun to stir in my mind. Had it been Titus or was another mafia family trying to undermine Konstantin? Was he safe? Who told the FBI agents where the lab was and when Konstantin would be there? Was he safe?

  "Worried, Elena?" He crooned, moving closer towards me. "I didn't think you would care."

  I care more than you'll ever know, I wanted to snap. "I'm worried about what this means for my son and I. You didn't even cross my mind."

  The lie was so obvious it could've been another piece of furniture.

  Konstantin stopped not a meter from me, hands sliding back into his pockets. He forgot all about his phone call as he eyes ran over from top to bottom, his gaze so intense it felt like his hands were dragging up and down my skin.

  "Don't worry about Nikolai's safety, Elena. No harm will ever befall him–and anyone who wishes him harm, will have to go through me first."

  Such pretty devoted words but his tone promised bloodshed.

  I wanted to retort, to snipe back, but words seemed to fail me. Konstantin's words burrowed their way into my heart.

  "I will keep Nikolai safe." I said, voice softer than it had been.

  Konstantin nodded. "I know you will. But I'll keep you both safe."

  I'll keep you both safe.

  I could feel myself being drawn back in, feel that same allure I had felt nearly three years ago. Konstantin and I were entwined with each other, so tangled it was impossible to know where I started and where he ended. Resisting him was like trying to untie the knots of us...futile.

  "Just like when you kept Roksana safe when Tatiana held a gun to her head?" I asked. "Or is it like how you kept Anton safe and he killed his unborn sister?"

  "Things have changed, Elena." Konstantin's voice was tight with control.

  "I know. Things...and people."

  He paused for a moment. "And people."

  In that moment, I looked up, meeting his stare. Our gazes collied in an explosion of fireworks. The pure force of him threatened to wash away all rational thought, threatened to stop my heart from beating and blood from pumping.

  Sometimes I mourned the fact that Nikolai didn't inherit his father's eyes. I had always been enamoured by the brown iris's, how the rivets turned gold in the afternoon and obsidian in the shadows. Konstantin's eyes were a point of fascination–and I instantly regretted looking into them.

  "I'm sorry for being so loud. I'll treat to be more considerate in the future, Elena."

  Elena. My name. The way it fell from his tongue should've been illegal.

  "Don't call me that."

  "Call you what?"

  He knew what. I hissed, "Elena."

  "I've called you Elena many times," he remarked. "You can't tell me that my simply saying your name is bothering you."

  He had called me Elena many times but never with such...distance. He said my Elen
a, lyubimaya. Never just my name–and never with such threatening friendliness, like we were two colleagues trying to put up with each other until it was time to clock out.

  "Just...just don't call me that."

  "Would you rather I didn't address you at all?"

  No. "Yes."

  Konstantin's lips twitch into a small secret smile. "I don't think that's possible. It'll be damaging to Nikolai seeing us so at odds. For him, we must be civil...Elena."

  "We're not staying here long enough to bother," I snapped.

  "Yes, you are," he replied. "Even if you do end up leaving once the Tatiana threat is void, it may take months, years, before that happens. We're no close to finding her today than we were three years ago."

  I frowned and asked, "What the fuck do you mean you're not close to finding her?"

  13

  Elena Falcone

  Konstantin's face revealed nothing.

  "It is as I said. Tatiana has managed to stay hidden for three years. It wasn't until the attack on the lab we knew for certain she was still active...that's how quiet she has been."

  Tatiana had kept her end of the bargain. I hadn't.

  My stomach twisted painfully. "There's been nothing...no hints she's building an army or any missing women?"

  "Nothing." Konstantin replied. "But that doesn't mean she isn't doing anything. Whatever Tatiana is up to, she has succeeded in keeping it a secret."

  I thought about the vase of teeth she had sent me, the vibrant purple foxglove that had been a clear threat.

  "You've gone pale," he said. "Where you hoping for different news?"

  "Of course. I had hoped you men with all your weapons and expertise would be able to find one lone woman."

  "Unfortunately, finding lone women is something we're still learning how to do." Konstantin's voice was tight with double-meaning. "Wherever she is, it’s safe to assume she hasn’t given up her…ambitions.”

  “Why did she come after Nikolai and me then?” I asked. “If she’s so intent on hiding.”

  “That is a question I have been asking myself.”

  Why did Tatiana wait three years? Why did she scare me into breaking my side of the agreement?